Of Blood and Wolves A Witcher Inspired Adult Fan Fiction
by Dovahsdottir
Summary: This is a story about relationships. It is not meant to be lore-friendly, nor follow canon. This is the tale of my character Root Selithlene, a woman born as a werewolf who ends up meeting Geralt of Rivia and a cast of other familiar Witcher men. NOTE: Any quotes taken directly from the books or games belong to the author Mr. Sapkowski, or CDPR.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The backwater tavern was scented with the aroma of stale beer, wood smoke and smoking herbs as various shades of patrons sat in their chairs and either drank away the pains of the day, or chatted in hushed tones about the monsters in their midst. Calling it a tavern was a technicality, as really the run down old place was little more than a shack with a couple of oil lanterns for light and a sputtering fire pit in the center of the room. A few tables and chairs, a single maid who ran the place and a cook qualified it as a tavern. The barkeep, a young half-elven woman, wiped a glass and rolled her eyes as another discussion broke out over the old lady that had moved into the village about a month ago.

"I'm telling you, I seen glowing eyes in her windows at night! She's hiding something. Bringing no good spirits and other types into our midst." Said one, an elderly man with a nasty scar running the length of his face.

"Aye, I saw her with a black cat too! You know those legends, black cats follow in the tracks of demons what say!" this time a stout dwarven fellow with his braided beard drenched in his fourth pint of ale spoke, then belched loudly.

"What about you, elf lass?" asked the first man to the barkeep, gesturing to her for another round. "Surely you've heard talk of this conjuror?"

Elyda Hemdyth pulled another pint for the men, and tossed auburn curls over her shoulder and smiled.

"The old one keeps to herself ya pack of ornery old coots. Let her alone I says. No use chasing tales of spirits. Besides, the real news is that a witcher is in town." She said, and every ear in the room turned to her, whilst voices went silent.

"A witcher ya says? Here? Well, doesn't that prove it then? Surely they've been sent to destroy this evil?" asked a nervous patron, his hand already beginning to tremble as he held his pint.

The she-elf shrugged. "Aye, that's a good point. But he ain't been to her house. Not what I seen. I did notice him spending a lot of time on the edge of town. Like a tracker or something. Why just the other day, I seen the old woman ya'll are fussing over going to the market. She passed right by the witcher and he didn't twitch, not even a second glance. But he was very interested in the herbalists shanty he was."

The patrons all glanced around at each other, each inventing a new story in their imaginations over what the old woman down the road must surely be doing in her house.

"What if she brings ghouls here? Or harvests our dead from the boneyard for her twisted experiments?" asked the town gravedigger, his hand resting on the handle of his shovel that'd clearly been used that day.

"Or worse." Said another in barely a whisper. "What if…"

"What if nothing." The elven woman interrupted. "Did ya not hear me? The witcher paid her no attention at all. He's here for something, but it ain't her. Why, what if it's you Gleb? I fancy you could be hiding faeries in that braided beard of yours!"

With that the crowd laughed and the air of fear was broken. The patrons all called for another round, and were grateful to stop talking about spirits, ghouls, old ladies and witchers.

However, down the street, in the finest home that village could boast of, was quite a different conversation altogether. And it did involve the witcher but no ghouls, spirits or faeries. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, graciously accepted a pint of home-brewed henbane beer and nodded thanks to his host and employer. A lithe elven man with hair so blonde it was almost as white as the Witchers' own, sat across from the renowned hunter and sipped wine from a crystal glass. His robes were the color of starlight and pale blue, lined with arcane symbols on the flowing, elegant sleeves and hem. He turned his golden eyes to the Witcher and Geralt knew it was time to get down to business.

"So tell me about the mark." Geralt said, getting straight to the point.

"Your target is a werewolf." Said the elf calmly.

Geralt raised an eyebrow. Werewolves were known to him of course, he'd hunted many. But usually werewolves left a swath of death, blood and gore in their wake. He'd not seen nor heard anything, no news of such a beast on his travels to meet his employer. And he'd stayed in several taverns along the trail.

"I see you are doubtful." The elf remarked, rightly ascertaining the Witcher's very thoughts. "But I know she's here. I've seen her."

"What are her crimes?" Geralt asked, taking a swig of the beer. It was good, he noted. And remembered his employer was of the aen aeidhe, with centuries to have learned the fine art of alcohol crafting and herbal infusions.

"Does that matter?" the elf asked, pouring more wine from a carafe. "You're not a lawman; you're a hunter of monsters are you not?"

Geralt bristled slightly at the jab. While he preferred to think of himself as administering justice when dispatching monsters, he was reminded in that moment that no, his kind, witchers, were created ages ago simply to hunt the dreads that other beings could not or would not.

"Point taken." The White Wolf grumbled, rubbing the salt and pepper stubble from not having shaved in a week. "Fine. So what is it you want?"

The elven man raised the crystal goblet to his nose and scented the fine honey wine within. It had taken him two hundred years to perfect the mead infused with belladonna. He sipped and when he turned his gaze back to the Witcher, Geralt noticed the elven man's pupils had gotten enormous, the black almost filling the entire eye with a golden ring around the edge. An effect of the belladonna. It made the elven mage look at once frightening and yet, strangely, extremely attractive.

"I want her taken alive and brought back to me." Whispered the mage, gently setting his glass on the carved oak table.

Geralt remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"I have some powerful sedatives for you to use in order to make this as risk free as possible." Spoke the elf, and he slid onto the table a small bundle wrapped in supple leather. "It's taken me weeks to perfect the fletchings on these darts, and several more to get the dosage just right. You'll need to hit her with all three of these in order for it to properly dope the creature enough to bring back here. She'll sleep for at least three full days. I'm assuming that is enough time?"

The White Wolf was somewhat taken by surprise but masked it. A job was a job. But he did have questions.

"Why all the fuss over the darts? These are finely crafted pieces, not what you would expect for hunting monsters when a blow to the head would do just fine." Geralt said, holding up one of the darts and examining it.

The delicate projectile was indeed a wonder of artisanship. Made of pure silver and etched with arcane runes along the shaft, it must have indeed been intense work, not including the weeks of preparation for the poison coating their tips.

The elf was grossly offended by the Witchers' casual reference to violence. But he calmed himself and smiled.

"Let me make this very clear. I do not want her harmed. Not one bruise, not one wound, save the entry marks of the darts. Not one single hair is to be harmed or you will not be fully paid. Are we clear?" he said, his near black eyes boring into the Witcher's.

Geralt set his pint down on the table and leaned forward, returning the intense stare.

"This is a very strange request, elf. And while money is money, I'm a witcher, not a kidnapper. I beat up monsters, and I cut their heads off for whoever pays me. Tell me why in the name of anything would you call on someone like me for this kind of bloodless work?" Geralt said, his voice deep and gravelly with age, with not a little bit of annoyance.

The elf rose and walked across the room, his movements so quiet that he made hardly a sound, like wind passing over pines. Only the train of his robe made the slightest rustle as the fabric trailed behind him. Geralt leaned back and watched the sorcerer.

Falithe aen Caem, eldest of the Aen Seidhe in that region, stood at the window overlooking the garden as the light of the waxing moon shone through the windowpane, making his pale features shimmer. The summer breeze blew through the opening, bringing with it the scent of hawthorn, honeysuckle, jasmine and his beloved belladonna, and tossed his long, blonde hair about his shoulders. Inhaling, he lowered his head and turned slowly to face the Witcher, whose hand had lazily drifted to the medallion around his neck, watching for any sign that the elf was casting a spell.

"Forgive me. I am not accustomed to being questioned. I understand you are hesitant to take on this task, and I am aware of the regular customs of your profession. However, I believe I can make this amply rewarding enough for you to make an exception." Falithe said, returning to the table.

The elf brought forth a small bag made of soft leather and passed it to Geralt, who took it in his gloved hand. Upon opening the cinctured top, the White Wolf gasped, for inside was a small mound of the purest cut diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires.

"From the dwarven mountain stronghold itself, Geralt of Rivia. And that is half your payment, given upfront, as an assurance of my goodwill and a reminder of how dear this job is to me. Upon delivery of the creature, in the manner I specified, you will receive an additional bag that is a match to the one you are holding and your choice of a steed from my own stable. A purebred horse of elven lineage, White Wolf. Dare you refuse me?" spoke the elf, his golden-rimmed black eyes piercing the Witcher even as his voice never was more than a whisper.

Of course, Geralt could not refuse. That kind of money would feed and shelter him for months. And an elven steed, legendary for their speed and endurance, how could he refuse? The Witcher nodded his ascent and slipped the leather bundle with the precious drugged darts into his travelling bag. The elf smiled, sipped his mead and Geralt felt a shiver run up his spine looking into those golden eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt glanced up into the sky. The moon was high and he was in place. Exactly where the elf told him to be, at the precise time. He waited with the infinite patience of one with his training, loaded blowgun in hand. Some distance away, the village bell tolled once.

 _1Am_. He thought. _Any moment_ …

From the path just ahead of him, he saw movement. He remained still, his gaze slightly lowered so the moonlight would not catch his strange eyes and betray his position. He waited and then his target appeared.

She knelt by the river, a woven basket in hand, and began harvesting the crawfish that swarmed in the pool of moonlight shining on the water. She had rich, dark brown hair that curled around her chin, sun-kissed pale skin and was wearing a light capelet about her shoulders and a gown of earthen brown. He blew hard into the hole and the dart flew true, hitting her in the soft flesh between neck and shoulder. Her eyes widened for one brief moment as fear washed over her, but then the drug began its work. Her pupils dilated swiftly, making her eyes appear to be black marbles, and then she slumped to the ground, the basket emptying, sending the grateful crawfish back to the river.

Geralt walked to her side and left the dart in place as he hoisted her up onto his shoulder. It was two days ride back to the elf's manor so he would have to travel quickly but quietly and off the main roads. He laid the woman down on a bed of furs in the back of a simple wagon that his horse Roach was tethered to. The old mare snorted and stamped, confirming that the woman was indeed otherworldly, but had enough trust in her rider to allow the creature to be close. Geralt then took the other two darts from the bundle and inserted them into her flesh as the elf had instructed. The woman flinched, and her eyelids fluttered, an involuntary reaction to the strong agents coursing through the body. He then covered her and anyone who might ask would be warned away from a wagon bearing a disease-ridden person. In these superstitious parts, no one would come for a closer look, or question the fierce eyed and infamous witcher.

The first day passed with no incident whatsoever. The woman slept deeply and barely moved, just as the mage said it would be. But as night began to fall on the second day, Geralt was making camp and was surprised to find the woman's eyes were open and gazing at him. He froze in place, unsure at first of what he was seeing. He blinked, and so did she. The White Wolf came closer to the wagon, but she did not move. Her heavy lids then drooped down and she fell again under the sway of the drug. Geralt figured the elf must have gotten the dosage wrong and knew he had to be on his way before she regained full consciousness. He did not sleep that night, but rested in meditation, his blade at the ready, watching the wagon until sunrise.

On the last leg of his journey, he stopped at a nearby stream to refill the water bottles and cook dinner. When walking back to the wagon, he heard a soft voice whisper,

"Why?"

He approached and looked upon the woman resting on furs and covered with a light blanket. Her eyes were still unfocused, but she was definitely becoming more alert. And Geralt was reminded that he had no more of the drug should something happen to delay them on this last bit of road. She asked again, her voice breaking and dry.

"Because I'm a witcher. It's what we do." He replied quietly. "You're a monster. And my client is paying to have you delivered to him."

"I've done…nothing. My transformations…I control them with herbs…I…I've done no wrong…please…"she pleaded with him, her eyes beginning to close, but she struggled to keep them open.

Geralt had heard similar pleas before from various monsters. A clever ploy enacted by the bruxa and other seducers of mortals, they fabricate tears and stories of their innocence, and then seconds later they're trying to rip his throat out. The White Wolf gazed back at the woman, his strange eyes that had been changed by the mutation searching her face.

"It's nothing personal. It's just what I do." He said, his fingers lightly trailing over the silver wolf medallion at his neck. _A wolf_. He thought. _How ironic._

"What…what does this…client want?" she asked, blinking and watching his dexterous fingers.

He shrugged casually, twisting the chain ever so slightly to make the medal turn and catch the firelight. "It's not my place to inquire. Perhaps he just wants to ask you questions."

She watched, mesmerized by the spinning of the silver medal bearing the wolf's head. Silver…spinning, like the moonlight that brought on her changes.

"Go to sleep." Geralt whispered soothingly in his deep voice. "Rest."

She murmured softly, following his words, her eyes drooping heavily until they closed.

Geralt knew the drug would put her back out now that she wasn't actively fighting it. But still, he quickly cooked his meal and set off, deciding to travel the entire way back that day, arriving ahead of schedule.

The Witcher steered the cart through the gates of the elven manor home and the lord of the house, Falithe aen Caem, was waiting at the base of the winding stone stairs that led up to the main door. Beside him was a set of steel storm doors that led down into a cellar, which were open. And posted on either side were two armed warriors clad in black armor. The cart rolled to a halt and Falithe approached, looking over the edge at the still sleeping werewolf on a bed of fine furs. He smiled and Geralt again felt a shiver run up his spine. The elf turned his gaze to the Witcher as he dismounted and approached.

"You have done well, Geralt of Rivia. Truly your reputation is worthy of being called legendary. You had no trouble?" the elf asked.

"No, but you may want to recalibrate your dosage if you plan on using this in the future. I had to use a bit of hypnosis to get her to stop resisting the drug. Otherwise it's quite likely she would've been able to fight it off." Geralt explained.

The elf raised his eyebrows, "Truly?" he said, impressed. "She's a finer specimen than I thought. Marvelous. It's amazing isn't it? Here lay a woman, and yet were she not under the sway of powerful medications, she's be a murderous, rampaging beast."

Geralt thought about the woman's claims concerning her changes.

"She…she claims to be able to control her shifts. If that's true, I wonder whether she's the threat you claim." Said Geralt, somewhat under his breath.

But the elven lord heard, and his gaze was venomous. Falithe drew forth the second bag of gems and tossed it to the veteran monster hunter. A sigh from the wagon drew their attention, and the elf motioned to his guards.

"Where…what's happening…" she murmured.

The guards came and lifted her from the wagon.

"Gently now, " the lord said, his face alight with a look that Geralt would only describe as revolting. "Easy…"

The woman had no strength to resist and stood limply, supported by their arms as the lord approached and lifted her chin. Confused, her emerald gaze drifted past him to the Witcher, and again they pleaded with him for an answer. He turned away.

"You will look at me when I address you. Obey and you'll be treated well. Disobey…well…" Falithe said, his golden eyes commanding her gaze.

"I…I don't understand…I've done nothing…"

"Shhhh…." The elf whispered and passed his hand over her face. "It's all right, you're safe now." And he spoke to her in elvish, making passes over her eyes with his hand.

Geralt watched as her gaze became misty and clouded over, the telltale sign of being deeply entranced. The woman was limp as the guards led her into the cellar and the elven lord turned to the Witcher.

"I believe I also owe you a steed of your choosing, White Wolf. And I thank you." Falithe said, inclining his head toward the aged hunter.

The Witcher looked at Falithe, then at the cellar doors, and then decided.

"Fuck the horse. What are you going to do with her?" Geralt asked, folding his arms.

The elven lord, clearly deeply offended by the vulgarity of language and the rudeness of the demand bristled and the air became charged with anger such that the Witcher could feel it between them.

"That is none of your concern." Falithe said coldly. And then the lord smiled, flashing perfect teeth and laughed. "Ah I see, did she whisper in her sleep perhaps? Did she attempt to explain how innocent she was? What? Come now, Geralt, why this pang of conscience?"

Geralt approached the elf, got right up in his face, and looked him in the eyes.

"I kill monsters, Falithe. And now I'm not sure I went hunting for the right one. Now tell me what you're going to do with her." He demanded.

A lesser being would've soiled themselves seeing the fierce, golden eyed warrior so close to them. But Falithe aen Caem, a great mage and hundreds of years old, was not intimidated by the great Geralt of Rivia and stood his ground, calmly, just inches away from the aging warrior. The elf smiled, a grin that made Geralt's stomach turn.

"I'm going to fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her until she starts bearing me sons and daughters with the blood of wolves. And then I'm going to do it again…and again…and again…until she's used up and worthless. Then I'm going to finally let her change, and make a rug out of her werewolf pelt. Is that explanation enough for you, Witcher?"

It was then that Geralt sighed and thought about the fine pelts in the wagon. The pelts he'd seen resting on the lord's bed, the pelt adorning the mantle above the fireplace and more. His hands became fists, the fine leather creaking as they clenched tighter.

"You sick bastard. How many werewolves have you done this to?" Geralt asked, stepping back from the filth before him.

The elf laughed, mocking the Witcher.

"Sympathy for a monster, Geralt? What do you care? You hunt and kill monsters for pay. I happen to want my quarry alive and unharmed. Take your payment and…"

But the elven lord did not get to finish his sentence. For Geralt had heard quite enough and unceremoniously severed the mages head from his shoulders with a swift silver blade. The blade for killing monsters. The pale golden hair was thick with blood as the head rolled to the ground, a look of sheer surprise frozen on its features. He then walked calmly into the cellar and took the guards by surprise, slaughtering them both with a whirl of steel, their throats opening and gushing forth gore before they knew what'd hit them. Sheathing his blades, he went to the woman who'd been laid spread eagle on a bed of furs…werewolf furs. Her eyes were open, blank and staring. Geralt shut her eyelids with a gentle sweep of his hand, picked her up and cradled her against his chest. He had to get her to his friend Triss Merigold, a sorceress who might be able to bring back the werewolf's mind from the mental prison the mage had placed it in. But the troubling question was…if he was a witcher, and witchers hunted monsters…what was he doing saving a werewolf's life, and what did that mean for his future? And further, it meant that monsters were no longer identifiable by just teeth, fur and claws. Sometimes the real monsters were the most beautiful of people. And lastly, what was this werewolf going to do when she finally did wake up and shift? Geralt hoped she was telling the truth about controlling her shifts with herbs and knew just the person to see about getting some to keep her from changing on them.

"Don't worry, old friend. I'm here." Said the voice of his friend Emiel Regis, who seemed to appear out of no where, right on que. "And yes, I almost have all we need. Let us make haste."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

That night, the two friends sat together around their fire and shared a meal of salted meat, bread, cheese and beer. The forest around them was alive with the late summer sounds of insects humming and frogs singing in the creek behind them. The woman was wrapped in warm blankets and resting near by, because neither thought it was a good idea to let her out of their sight. Although Geralt doubted the werewolf could break the powerful spell on her own, he equally didn't want to risk it. After all, she had been able to resist the drugs administered to her. Should she awaken, it was possible that she'd be reasonable, but equally possible that she'd fly into a panic, which may induce a shift.

"How far do we have to travel before finding, Triss?" Regis asked, finishing the last of his drink and leaning against the wagon wheel. "Ooh. That is a fine henbane beer. Shame about that mage having to die. Glad you thought to lift this from his private stock."

Geralt shrugged. "Not sure exactly. The last I knew she was in Oxenfurt. Visiting some contacts."

"That's a long, long way to travel, friend, especially with this young woman in tow. Plus, someone eventually is going to get curious and inquire. Hmmm. I wonder…" Regis said.

The Witcher watched as his vampire friend rummaged through a linen satchel and laid out several specimens of plants, measured them with precision and then transferred them to a small, wood-carved mortar and pestle.

"Are you sure the elf used a spell on her, Geralt? Is it possible he only used basic hypnosis, like you used on her?" Regis asked, grinding the mixture.

The Witcher cocked his head to one side. "How do you know about that? Have you been following me?"

The vampire smiled, glancing up at the White Wolf. "When I got news that you were going after this particular job I began following you, yes. I am actually curious about this person myself. A werewolf who controls her shifts with plant medicine is a very curious matter indeed. Can you blame me?"

Geralt nodded. Of course that made sense. Regis was a master herbalist, a scholar and hundreds of years old. And, unique among higher vampires, he'd long sworn off the consumption of blood. So of course it made perfect sense for him to be interested in a werewolf who didn't give in to the urge to shift.

"In fact," he continued. "I'm quite sure that I could be of service to her. If she'll allow it. I'm certain I know the plants she would be using and could augment her use of them for a stronger and more reliable solution to her…um…condition."

Now that he thought about it, Geralt didn't recall his medallion vibrating in the slightest when the elf had seemed to be casting a spell.

"Hmm, good point. But what kind of trance lasts this long? It's been hours. Usually people wake up after just a few minutes." Geralt said.

Regis stopped his grinding for a moment and gave his companion a very amused look.

"That depends on the trance. I can have my patients sleep for days. But I concur, it's unlikely the elf has, well had, such powers as I. Venerable as the elven lord was, he was not um…gifted, with the arts of the vampire. No, what I figure is that she's still recovering from the drugging and the trance he used only deepened the already sedate state she was in. Similar to what you yourself did. Not to compare you to that filth at all, just…pointing it out."

Geralt looked over to the resting woman, and then rose to put another log onto the fire. The sparks flew into the night like bright fireflies dissolving into the indigo blue of the sky studded with silvery stars.

"Wait…you're right. Hold on." Geralt said and knelt down beside the woman.

He lowered the blanket covering her shoulders and there, placed exactly where he'd put them three nights before, were the three tiny silver darts lodged into the skin. Regis was beside him and laid a hand on the Witchers' arm.

"Don't remove them just yet. We want her to sleep for a little while longer. The mixture I'm making needs a few more ingredients, and I need some good quality alcohol to make the tincture. Then, once it's ready, we can wake her, explain what's happened and I'll have a proper potion ready to stave off any transformation. I want to make enough of it to send her home with. That is unless…well…oh…never mind."

Geralt turned to his friend and grinned. "You want her to come with us don't you?"

Regis smiled with his usual pursed lips, still reluctant to show his teeth even to a trusted friend, shrugged and went back to his satchel and grinding of plants. The Witcher covered the woman and sat back down, taking a long drink from the canteen, watching his friend.

"Oh don't look at me like that, Geralt." Regis said, giving him a glance. "I'm not a love struck fool, although she is beautiful. I do feel a…connection so to speak, with her, yes. What of it? It's been a long, long time since I'd heard word of another who resisted the urge to do what is natural to them. It's quite natural for vampires to drink blood, but we don't need to. And I choose not to. For werewolves, it's their nature to shift and run free in the wilderness, giving reign to their more animalistic behaviours and urges. Some of them, as you well know, lose control and lose sight of their humanity and, well you know what kind of trouble they get into. But this woman is using potions and herbs to regulate her shifts. Fascinating! Even you must think so."

Geralt nodded and finished off the canteen of water.

"Alright, alright, Regis, I understand. I meant no offense. I'm going to fill up the canteens at the creek and have a piss."

The vampire nodded and continued his work with the mortar and pestle. Geralt walked down to the bank just behind them a few paces, unbuttoned his pants and stood gazing up at the stars.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he wondered aloud.

He knew eventually someone would come inquiring after Falithe aen Caem. Someone like that doesn't go missing without someone else taking notice. Still, it'd most likely be a while. The backwater village the sorcerer had chosen to live near wasn't going to care about a highborn elf. Then it dawned on Geralt why the mage had chosen to live so close to a squalid hovel; no one would care if anyone went missing. Or if they did, they'd blame the usual suspects like toothless old women with cats. The Witcher ground his teeth, pleased that he'd killed the foul elf.

When he returned to the fire, he found Regis sitting close to the woman, and he motioned for the Witcher to remain silent. Geralt came closer and listened. She was muttering in her sleep, her eyelids twitching as she dreamed. But neither of them could make out what was being said. After a time, she grew still again. The vampire returned to his potion and the Witcher passed him a full canteen, packing the others into the wagon.

"What do you suppose werewolves dream of?" Geralt asked, sitting down and pulling out a knife to whittle a piece of wood.

"Who can know?" Regis replied, pouring a bit of the water into the mixture. "I suspect a whole range of things. Although some do make jokes about chasing wagons and burying bones."

"Do you ever dream of blood, Regis?" Geralt asked, glancing up at his friend.

The vampire replied. "I used to, yes. In the early years after having given it up. But it's been a long time now. For me, blood is merely another fluid in the world, not a food source. Besides, I don't really sleep per se, so it was more daydreams if you will for me. Why do you ask?"

The Witcher shrugged and turned back to his carving. "I sometimes dream of being human. Of having a normal life, with children of my own, maybe a farmstead with Yennefer. I wondered if maybe dreams were…"

"The minds' way to have the things we cannot, or have given up?" Regis finished, offering his friend a kind smile.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

The fire crackled and sparked pleasantly in the quiet woods.

The vampire shrugged. "A mind is a mysterious place, Geralt. Each time I touch one I learn something from them and I hope they learn something from me. For it cannot be helped. Those I enchant inevitably touch my mind a little as well. So, ah here we are. The plant mixture is ready for the alcohol and then it will need to set in the full light of day for about eight to twelve hours. The solar infusion should give her complete resistance to the shifting urge and I've added some additional herbs to help clear her body of the toxins that were in the drug administered via the darts. She should then be able to speak to us clearly and make a decision as to where she'd like to go. Hopefully, with us."

The Witcher settled his back against the wagon and slipped into a light trance while Regis took out one of his books. The woman slept. And dreamed she was resting in the arms of a handsome, nobly featured, middle-aged man that smelled of the woods and spices. He was stroking her hair, telling her that all would be well. And tucked a sprig of lavender behind her ear.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Two nights later, the companions were again sitting beside a cracking fire on the way to Oxenfurt; still a long, long way off and still with the woman in tow. As night was falling, and the forest began its evening symphony, Geralt took up his weapons and left to do a patrol of their surroundings, leaving the ancient vampire with the still sleeping werewolf. On their travels, the master herbalist had wild harvested the rest of the plants needed for the potion, and they'd stopped off in a tiny hamlet to get some alcohol from the tavern. It wasn't the highest quality, but it would do. And as luck would have it, the sunshine was brilliant that day and the solar infusion was ready. He glanced up as the Witcher returned to camp, an elder doe draped over his shoulder.

"No monsters about tonight, Geralt?" Regis asked, turning the spit that was roasting a plump rabbit and two frogs. And nestled in the coals was a small cooking pot filled with freshwater clams, their shells just beginning to pop open.

"Only the two of you." He replied, with a friendly smirk. And set about gutting the deer to prepare the meat.

"Oh, very funny." The vampire said, shaking his head and then gestured to the carcass. "Erm…are you sure you want to do that so close to camp?"

"Why…not…"

The woman's eyes snapped open and the first thing she saw was the Witcher, on one knee by the deer, his hand bloodied and the other holding a large knife. In a flash, she was on all fours, crouching, ready to run. But she faltered, still woozy from days of being unconscious and Geralt was on her in an instant. Underneath his strong body, he could feel her changing.

"Regis!" he yelled.

"Let her go, Geralt!" the vampire called.

"Are you mad?!" Geralt yelled back at him. "She'll kill us!"

"You're thinking like a witcher. Think like a wolf! She's starving. Let her go, she can't get far, she's too weak." He replied.

"You better be right or we're dead!" the Witcher replied, and deftly leapt away, landing gracefully with his silver sword singing as it slipped from the sheath.

The werewolf shifted completely and where once a brown haired forest maiden was, now rose up a chocolate furred wolf with piercing green eyes. Shifting her weight, she stood on elongated, massive hind legs and blasted the two friends with a roar.

"That's a threat display, not a challenge." Regis whispered. "See?"

Geralt wasn't sure, and his instincts were telling him to leap into combat to destroy the beast. And yet he trusted his friend too. Still, he kept his silver blade at the ready. She snarled and glanced at the deer meat, her maw already watering with drool.

"Yes, please, be our guest!" Regis said, motioning to the carcass. "Geralt, your weapon."

"No way!" the Witcher said with a nod that meant no further discussion. There were just some habits that he would never break.

"Oh, for goodness sake you don't bare your blade in my presence." Regis complained.

"I did once." Geralt said through gritted teeth, remembering when the vampire had been stitching up his good friend Dandelion and commented on the famous bards' blood.

"Well yes, yes, when we first met but…"

"Enough, Regis! No!" the White Wolf spat, and instantly felt bad about it.

But Regis knew the old witcher well enough to know that it was just his instincts talking and not the deeper, wiser man he knew Geralt of Rivia to be.

"Very well, fine, fine." He replied, and turned to the werewolf. "We mean you no harm, mi'lady." Regis said softly, his voice taking on a slight musical quality. "Feast and be not afraid."

The werewolf leapt on the deer and tore into the flesh, consuming first the organs, the choicest meats, the dark red-brown lumps sliding down her throat with a greedy, wet growl. Then she gouged out the eyes, eating bits of them from her claws like the soft, fleshy clams still simmering in the cooking pot. Regis was amazed while making mental notes of the feeding pattern, her coloring and markings, and the sounds she was making. Geralt, feeling a little foolish for snarling at his friend like a grumpy old wolf himself, slowly sheathed the silver blade. She lifted her head from the corpse, cocked it to one side, licked her jowls, and then continued gorging. Regis did note though that her eyes were always on them, even as she appeared to be immersed in the feeding. The vampire looked over at the Witcher and gave him a friendly smile.

"No need to say anything, Geralt. I quite understand." He said. "Now let's check our own supper. Ah, perfectly done!"

But the Witcher wasn't as laid back as the vampire seemed to be. So while he relaxed his guard, he leaned against the wagon and kept a keen eye on the feasting werewolf. He was grateful to be deep into the woods. Had they been closer to a town, the sound of her roar would've roused suspicion and could've placed them all in danger.

"Come now, Geralt. Plated rabbit, a frog for us each and a shared pot of clams. I dare say we're eating like royalty tonight." Regis said cheerfully, and yet it didn't escape the Witcher's notice that his tone was very lilting.

He glanced over to the werewolf and found that she was staring right back at him, her green eyes giving off a slight glow. They were not aggressive but rather questioning and…afraid. The master tracker knew the look of fear in an animals' eye, even those deemed monsters. And this creature, clearly now satiated, was afraid of them. Both of them, because she kept glancing between him and Regis. And yet…she didn't make a run for it.

He turned to his friend and decided to trust the wise vampire and took a seat by the fire, accepting the plate of warm food.

"Thank you and…I'm sorry. Old habits…you know…" grumbled the Witcher.

"What's a cross word between friends now and again, eh?" Regis said, tucking into a steaming piece of rabbit. "Oh this is fine, very fine indeed. And this would be perfect with some of the honeysuckle wine I brought."

Regis walked over to the wagon, noting the werewolf watching him intently. He smiled at her, allowing his teeth to show, which made both of her ears slowly perk up. With the look of confusion being nearly universal in all creatures, the vampire had to stifle a laugh. He then turned and rummaged through the traveling bags toting his various bottles, vials, alcohol, plants, resins and more.

"Here we go. Perfect. You ah, you're welcome to join us. No need to sit over here in the darkness when we've a nice fire." He said kindly. "I suppose we've got some explaining to do."

The two shared a bit of wine and otherwise ate their food quietly while the night wore on. At one point, Geralt and Regis both heard the werewolf rise up, shake and lumber down into the creek. The Witcher looked over to his friend, but Regis seemed completely unconcerned with what the woman was doing. He wondered if this was a ploy the vampire was actively engaging in, for he couldn't imagine his friend being so incautious around a stranger, let alone a werewolf.

"Well, that was a fine meal. Better than any tavern plate I've ever had. And that's saying something in the centuries I've been around." Regis said and took out a beautiful, hand-carved pipe and began packing it with herbs for an after-dinner smoke. "This is a fine blend I've made, Geralt. I have a spare pipe. Care for a bit?"

"No. Thank you though." The Witcher said and instead rose and unbuckled his blades. He then unfastened his armor, sat back down, and began the long process of cleaning, mending and oiling the metals and leathers.

While both men knew, at all times, exactly where the werewolf was because of their keen hearing, both equally carried on as if not aware of her. That is until Regis looked up, took a long pull from his pipe, and let the lovely scent of vanilla bourbon smoke drift through his open mouth.

"My goodness…" he whispered. Geralt followed his gaze.

A woman, looking middle-aged, with wet, short brown hair and green eyes stood dripping at the edge of the firelight, half hidden behind a tree. The Witcher lowered his mailed leather to the ground, and politely averted his gaze as he rose and walked to the wagon.

"Please, come and warm yourself." Regis said, motioning to her. "You've nothing to fear from us, although I can see how that might sound confusing at first. Might I say though, you gave us quite a fright."

The woman didn't really believe that, now that she knew what Regis was. She found it very interesting that she could barely detect the scent of vampire on him, so masked was he in the familiar smells of the forest. _A wonderfully clever tactic_. She thought.

And his mannerisms were flawlessly human. No one, except someone with the utmost trained eye and perception, would know what he was. She walked over and crouched across from him, warming her hands, grateful for the heat on her naked body.

"Here." Said Geralt returning. He set a pile of clothing and a blanket within reaching distance, careful not to get too close. "These should be about right for you."

The woman looked over at the Witcher, her emerald eyes still questioning, still fearful. Regis also recognized something else in her gaze.

"You…you don't remember what happened do you?" he asked.

She looked over to him, then down at the flames, while wrapping the blanket around herself.

"No." she answered softly. "Thank you, sir. Excuse me."

She rose, taking the clothing with her, and went behind the wagon. A moment later, she returned wearing a pair of soft doeskin pants, calfskin boots with fur trim, and a blue silk shirt that was clearly Dandelion's, secured about her rounded hips with a black sash. She'd also retrieved her short caplet that had been spared by the transformation, but the rest of her clothing had been shredded and was now useless. Geralt put another log onto the fire, as it was getting cooler as the night rolled on into the deep hours, but was yet still some time before dawn. The woman, uncertain of what to do or how to be, sat down beside the fire and hugged her knees. Regis watched her carefully for any signs of aggression, but there were none.

"I must say, you're quite composed for someone who just woke up with two complete strangers for company. I'm quite grateful, don't get me wrong." Regis said, his eyes glowing a bit in the firelight.

"It's not the first time." She muttered, glancing up at them both.

The Witcher and the vampire exchanged glances but remained quiet.

"In my early years of shifting I um, would wake up in the strangest places. Happily in this form and not…well…you saw." She explained. "Is that what happened here? Did you two find me sleeping and…"

"Not exactly." Geralt cut in, his voice deep and yet unbelievably soft.

The Witcher proceeded to explain to the woman the details of his contract, delicately leaving out the part about what the elven lord was going to do with her. And finished by saying that something just felt wrong about the mage's intentions and he'd decided not to turn her over. Instead he chose to bring her with them until she woke. She listened patiently, although not without a bit of distress over the detail that he was a professional monster hunter. Regis made note that the Witcher left out the vast majority of things that had occurred during the delivery process, and was keen to remember that. There was no reason to inform of her of the gruesome, vile intentions on behalf of Falithe aen Caem.

"So…won't this person just send another witcher after me?" she asked. "And doesn't this put you in danger?"

Regis smiled at her asking such astute questions. But he waited for Geralt to reply, since it was he who owed her an explanation. The hunter averted his gaze and ran his thumbnail along the sharpened, clean edge of the silver blade before slipping it into the oiled sheath with a click.

"No." he said with a soft voice, but in a tone that meant no further explanation was coming.

"I see." She said. Understanding perfectly what was implied.

The woman was relieved. For although the true explanation was distressing, she was concerned that perhaps her potions had failed, and that she'd shifted and run wild.

"I'm going to take watch." Geralt said, and slid the twin blades around to his back.

She watched as he left the fire and walked into the darkness. Regis rose, grabbed another dry blanket from the wagon and approached, seating himself beside her.

"Here you are. This will help keep you warm, and feel free to rest or I have some books if you'd like to read. We'll both keep watch." He said softly.

The ancient vampire smelled pleasantly of cedar and vanilla from the blend he'd been enjoying earlier in the pipe. And while she appreciated the gesture, the woman was not yet sure what to make of it all.

"By the way, my name is Emiel _Regis_ Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy. But these days I just go by Regis. It's my pleasure to meet you, mi'lady." He said with an inclination of his head.

"You're too kind. I'm no highborn lady, just the daughter of a simple woodsman. I'm called Root." She said, the barest hint of a smile on her face. For no one had ever spoken to her with such courtesy.

"Nice to meet you, Root." Regis said, wrapping the blanket about her shoulders. "There you are. Nice and cozy. Would it be rude of me if I asked if sometimes the fur is helpful in staying warm?"

This time an actual smile lit up her features and she even blushed a little. Regis began to scrape out his pipe.

"It does, yes." She replied. "But…still…I…well…"

"No need to explain anything. I only wondered." He said, his voice again changing ever slightly to a quiet, musical accent.

Regis could feel a slight pressure on his side as she leaned into him, but he pretended not to notice. He finished packing his pipe and set it aside. Then lifted his left arm slowly, allowing the drifting woman to lean into his cloak that smelled of the woods.

"I…I know…what you are…" she said softly.

"Of course you do, I showed you." He said. "As a gesture of trust. You're not the first monster Geralt of Rivia has spared. Nor the last I imagine."

Her weight against him grew heavier. Despite having slept for days, he could tell she was exhausted from the shift, the feed after days of not eating, and just the sheer mental exhaustion of trying to process where she was and what she'd be doing in the very near future. But he was happy to see that she didn't fear him.

"Geralt of Rivia? The White Wolf? Whom the elves name Gwynbleidd?" she asked, surprised.

"You mean you didn't recognize him? Usually that man can't go anywhere without someone knowing who he is. It's the hair I think. Yes, that is the famous witcher I've been traveling with. And you know the elder speech do you? My goodness, but you do make a fine first impression. Do you mind if I have another smoke?" Regis asked, holding his pipe.

Root blushed again and smiled as she shook her head. "No, not at all. My father used to have a pipe now and again. I quite like the scent. And…only a little. Many of the herbs I use have elvish names. It aids in identification to know more than one name for the plants."

The old vampire grabbed an odd bit of stick lying near by and let it smolder in the coals. When lit, he used the tip to light his pipe. Drawing deeply, the air was filled with the scent of burning herbs and spices. He exhaled, blowing rings into the cool night air.

"By the moon that is a good blend, even if I do say so myself. So, Root, may I ask you a more personal question?" Regis said, tilting his head to look at her as she rested against his chest.

"Mhm" she replied, covering her mouth, yawning again.

"You seem erm…very trusting of us after such a short time. Well, hardly no time really, a few hours or so. May I inquire as to whether there is a reason?" he asked.

Root knew that part of the reason was that Regis was not human. And seeing as the Witcher obviously knew that, and wasn't trying to kill him, she felt safer with them then running off to a village of humans like a maiden in distress. Sure the people there might be willing to listen to her story. But they'd just as likely be superstitious folk who would cast her out for bringing trouble down on their heads.

"Well, partly because you, like me, aren't human. And clearly Geralt knows this as well so, I feel more secure being with you two then I would running away. But also, I've no idea where I am. I wouldn't know where to run to anyways. And well…oh never mind." She said and shivered.

Regis wrapped his cloak around her shoulders and drew her closer to his side. He took a long pull on his pipe and let the smoke slowly coalesce into a cloud of sweet smelling spice, that lingered in the cooler, heavier air before exhaling.

"I'm all ears. Feel free to share anything you like, nothing too silly for me." Regis said and waited patiently. "I mean my goodness after four hundred years, I've heard nigh everything."

Root had started to doze off but caught herself, forcing herself to stay awake and talk to the first man, who wasn't her father, to pay her any attention whatsoever in her adult life.

"Four hundred years?" she gasped. "Oh my, the things you must've seen. The knowledge you hold must be…incredible."

"Ahh you're very kind. I've picked up a thing or two in my time, sure. I try to make myself useful as a healer rather than predator these days. But yes, I've seen my share of kingdoms rise and empires fall. The ravages of disease and war. The beauty of kindness and the cruelty of men, elves and beasts alike. It's been quite an adventure really. And ample time to learn my craft with plants, brewing of alcohols, infusions, tinctures, medicines, surgery and so much more." He replied without the slightest trace of boasting.

Root found his comment about predators to be intriguing.

"Are you suggesting that predators have a useful role, but that you choose not to engage the world as one?" she asked.

"Well spotted, Root." He said, impressed by her reading between the lines. "Yes, quite so. Predators indeed have their place in the world. Mind you that their prey may object to that. But most scholars agree that the cycle of predation is a natural part of the world, not a curse or a result of the Conjunction of the Spheres. Now whether or not vampires, or werewolves for that matter, are a part of that cycle, or something else, well that remains a point of debate among many."

"Is it…true then…the legends about vampires? Do you drink blood?" she asked quietly.

"No, not me. Gave it up ages ago now. It's why Geralt and I get along so well. His conscience apparently won't let him kill a monster that doesn't act like a monster. Which, by the way, is why he didn't turn you over to his employer. Yes, I know you control your shifts with herbs. Fascinating that, and I do hope we can talk about it sometime. Oh, and let's see, ah yes, I helped out a friend of his a time or two with my herbalist skills. But back to your question. Do some other vampires consume it? Yes. Yes they do." He said, setting his pipe aside.

Root started to doze off again, finding the cadence of his voice very lovely to listen to, and his scent soothing. And her respect for the White Wolf grew knowing that he did indeed have a conscience when it came to those deemed monsters, especially considering it was reasonable that some of her kin had fallen to his silver sword. But Root also knew that some of her kin definitely deserved to be hunted down and killed. She never blamed people for being afraid, but she did her best to not give them any reason to be.

"And what about…the other vampire powers? Are…are you…"

"Using them right now?" he asked softly. "No. I've no need to. But you probably should rest. Although I won't force you to, of course. But yes. We can enchant, and cause deep sleep to come over people. Among other things. Abilities that come in handy when you have to do surgery with no sleep inducing plants to put the patient out or relieve their pain."

They sat together quietly, listening to the sounds of the forest. Regis closed his eyes, hearing the soft padding of nocturnal animals go about their lives in the shadows just beyond the fire. The eerie hoo of a horned owl in the distance, and all the while in the background the soft gurgling of the creek. He could also hear the Witcher's footsteps coming back to camp. A soft snore drew him out of his reverie and he gazed down at the woman resting heavily against him.

"There you go." He said quietly.

He unfastened his cloak and made a pillow for her head, laying her gently beside him. He then retrieved another blanket from the wagon and tucked it around her to keep off the cold. He stoked up the fire, adding another log as the Witcher came back from his patrol and stepped into the firelight. Geralt glanced at the sleeping woman and gave Regis a raised eyebrow.

"No, not my doing." He said, pretending offense, and then grinned. "Although I thought about it. As a professional healer I can judge when people should be getting adequate sleep. Turns out she didn't need any help."

"Yeah, sure. But don't think I've not noticed you switching the tone of your voice at times. I'm sure that played no role in her becoming very relaxed and comfortable." Geralt said with a smirk, crouching by the fire to warm his hands.

The vampire didn't deny it and simply shrugged.

"I only wanted her to feel more at ease. On my word, I didn't influence her at all." He said sitting back down in his usual place, pulling out a book.

Geralt did believe him. The ancient vampire was, after all, a man of honor. He'd come to know this over their time spent together on the road. Regis was far more likely to use his vampiric abilities as an aid to those he encountered, not as a weapon. That is unless his allies required him to use them as such. Like the time he'd knocked out a couple of guards so that Geralt and Dandelion could escape a camp full of soldiers.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, as the sun rose, a slight mist rose up from the chilly ground, casting the woods around them in a soft, golden hue. The daylight creatures started to wake and the first birds began to warm up their voices. And the vampire, who never really slept, having finished his book, rose, stretched and greeted the dawn as if he were any other being, human, dwarf or elf; which is to say he did not, as some believed he would, burst into flames. He stoked up the coals of their waning fire, added a fresh log, and fetched a metal pot to make the morning tea. Humming softly to himself, Regis walked down to the creek and filled the pot with clear water. When he returned, a pair of stunning green eyes met his as Root woke up, running a hand through her short brown hair as she sat up.

"Good morning to you." He said softly, noting the still sleeping witcher. "Sleep well?"

She nodded. "Better than I have in a long time actually. Which…considering my circumstances is…kind of strange."

"This is a strange world we live in, mi'lady…erm, Root. Pardon my lapse into more formal language. Old habits and all. Care for some tea?" he asked, opening his satchel containing the small corked bottles of dried herbs and roots.

"Yes, please." She replied, drawing closer to the now crackling fire to warm her chilled hands.

"Very well. This morning we have a bit of dandelion root, a sprig of pine, a few chamomile flowers and I have a bit of clover honey saved for sweetness if you like. Ah yes here we are." He said, and added all the plants to the kettle, setting it in the coals to steep.

The air around them grew warmer as the sun rose higher, casting the woods into a radiant golden glow. Root turned her face to the rising sun and inhaled deeply, adoring that first kiss of sunshine on her face, grateful for another day to roam wild and free. But her thoughts did of course have to shift to her immediate future. Her brow furrowed and she stood up, stretching the last bit of sleep and nighttime from her body. And noticing, with a slight darkening of her face, the clothing that wasn't her own. It wasn't that she was ungrateful, but rather it reminded her of her failure to control her change. Although she knew it wasn't wholly her fault, having been without her herbal tonic for several days. Then…

"Oh, no…" she gasped, and turned to Regis, then to the Witcher.

Geralt woke instantly upon hearing the change in her voice and Regis looked up. He could sense too her rising emotional state and scented the fear in the air. The Witcher rose slowly and he and Regis exchanged glances, while the vampire drew near to her.

"What is wrong?" he asked calmly. "Why Root you're, you're trembling. What is it?"

"I…I don't have my tonic. It's all back home. Oh no…no…no no…I have to find…"

"Ah! Not to worry." Regis said. And he went to the wagon and brought forth the corked bottle holding the solar infused tincture made while he and Geralt traveled together and she had slept. Root, blinking and still distressed by the idea that any moment she would shift, turned to him.

"Lavender, calendula flowers, hawthorn berries, a dash of allspice, anise, salt and aconite infused in good quality alcohol in the sunshine for nigh half a day. I added a few things of my own, but I believe you'll find this to be a suitable supplement for your own recipe." The vampire said, handing her the bottle.

Overwhelmed Root threw her arms around the vampire and hugged him tightly. Surprised by the gesture, Geralt had to smile as the ancient man before him slowly wrapped his arms around her and comforted her, for she was full on sobbing. But for Regis, it was most likely the first time in years, perhaps centuries, that another being had hugged him. The Witcher politely excused himself for his morning tryst with Nature, leaving them alone.

"There now, you're safe. Do not fear, Root. I had an idea of what herbs you would use and have had this ready. Shhh, hush now. Here, have a bit of it, it'll make you feel better. Not too much, I used fresh aconite not dried, so it may be a bit potent. We don't want to poison you, my dear. There. See? No change." He said softly, wrapping her hands around the bottle, keeping one hand there, resting on hers.

He took his other hand and ran his fingers along her brow, and down her cheek, looking deeply into her watery green eyes. But not to charm her, rather he was looking for any signs of the wolf within coming to the surface. He saw none.

"You're alright." He said. "But I would ask that later you tell me more of the nature of your changes. Will you promise me that?"

She nodded, and wiped the tears from her cheek, suddenly feeling very childish with such an outburst of emotion.

"I'm sor…"

But he put his finger to her lips, and then as if by magic, produced a sprig of lavender and tucked it behind her ear.

"No need for that. You have a very unique life circumstance, Root. One that I completely understand upsets your day to day living among others. It's taken me centuries to master passing among them without fear of the thirst. You cannot be older than forty winters and so do not feel foolish because you sometimes lose control." He said in a voice so unbelievably soft and filled with kindness that her tears flowed again freely. And she smiled at him, the sunlight making her tears into drops of dew on her skin.

"Thank you." She whispered.

Regis smiled at her and looked up as the White Wolf returned with a large fish in hand.

"Breakfast?" Geralt asked.

"Yes. And please, let me help." Root said, reluctantly leaving Regis' embrace. And he, very reluctantly, let her go.

But he knew that as soon as she could, she'd return to him; for he'd touched her mind, ever so slightly when gazing into her eyes. And he saw there what he'd hoped to see. A spark. And Regis knew that all things, life, love, even their world itself, began with but a spark.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Geralt decided they would stay at the same camp that night, seeing as none of them had any particular place to be. And Root had not informed either of them of her decision concerning the future. As the sun began to sink into the horizon, the early evening found the green eyed forest maiden sitting on a large rock, near a clearing in the woods, the creek nearby and trilling musically over the stones. Resting her chin upon her knees, she enjoyed the warm summer breeze upon her face, but she scented the telltale signs of Autumn approaching, a certain crispness to the wind. It would be a few weeks yet, but the first frost was not far off. Her thoughts wandered back to her tiny home in the woods, which seemed so very far away now. It wasn't that there was anything particularly valuable there, she lived a simple life after all. But it was close to the homestead her father had built. And her father's grave, which was more important to her than the little bit of money, books and herbs stored there. But her thoughts drifted back to why she found herself traveling with Geralt and Regis. Someone had wanted her captured, possibly even dead. But why? Geralt did not say. The White Wolf left no doubt in her mind that the employer had been killed, so perhaps it wouldn't be wise to return home. If anyone else knew of her being a werewolf, Root wondered if they'd blame her for the death.

"We get blamed for everything." She muttered, and sighed heavily.

From the shadows, Regis leaned against a tree and watched. The vampire made sure to be downwind as well, as to not carry his unique scent to her. He didn't want Root to be aware of him, not yet. The man who appeared to be middle aged, with a bit of grey in his hair, dark eyes and dressed in simple clothing, wanted to admire her without Geralt or she knowing. He could of course make himself invisible, but that wouldn't hide his scent. Invisible wasn't the same as not there at all. A lesson he'd learned in his younger years. As the moon began to rise in the evening sky, Root took out the vial he'd given her and had a sip of about one ounce. She corked it and heaved a sigh of relief. A change did not come. He stepped forward.

"You know witchers too have a variety of potions and elixirs that they use. It would seem you have that in common with our Geralt." Regis said, walking with almost no sound up to her position.

Root was amazed at how silent he was, and slightly startled by the sound of his voice.

"Forgive me. I forget at times how quiet I can be." Regis said with a sly smile, leaning against the rock.

Root looked over and was stunned by how handsome he was, standing in the fading light of the sun, his skin pale, his eyes dark and lovely. She lowered her eyes and then looked up to the rising moon.

"It's so beautiful and yet…it's such a source of fear for me." She said softly.

"You did promise to tell me more about the nature of your changes. Would now be a good time?" Regis asked, again shifting his voice ever so slightly.

Root slid down from the rock, brushed off her soft leather pants and turned to face him.

"It's kind of a long story, so I hope you don't mind. But sure, I can tell you what I know." She replied.

"Let us walk then. It is a fine evening and our witcher companion is off on a wide sweep of the area." He said with a kind smile, always veiling his teeth unless it was his intention to show them.

The two walked beside the creek on a well-used path that wound through the woods with the open meadow just a few yards away. Some red deer lingered in the distance, nibbling at the clover dusted with dew like drops of starlight. And in the far away distance, a nightingale sang.

"I suppose I need to go back to the very beginning, to the night I was born. Father told me why we had to live out in the deep woods. Because no one could ever find out what happened that night." She began.

Regis listened with patience, walking beside her as she trailed a hand along the leaves and flowers beside the path.

"You see…mother…" Root sighed heavily. "Mother's body wasn't able to birth a werewolf child into the world. And father said I tore her up pretty badly when I…ya know. She…she didn't make it. Father said it wasn't my fault. And he always blamed himself, saying he loved her too much. And she loved him. I guess she knew the risks."

She stopped beside an old gnarled tree and laid her hand on it. The boughs above rocked in the summer wind, the leaves rustling softly, with the grasses nodding in the evening air. Regis waited, never pressing, never rushing.

"So it was my father who carried the bloodline. It was in his lineage, all the way back to the Conjunction of the Spheres, which carried the strain up to me. When mother died during the birth, we had to flee. Her body was too broken for anyone to believe it was a normal yet still sad death after birthing. And even if we buried her quietly, her sudden disappearance would raise suspicion. So he wrapped me in a blanket, grabbed his axe and hunting knife, and we fled. It sounds rather dramatic; almost something you'd hear a bard tell about. But, it's true. It's what happened."

Regis laid a hand on her shoulder, but remained silent. Root lowered her gaze to the creek, watching the water flow by just like time itself; unconcerned with who it carried or the events within it, it bore them all the same.

"I try to believe there are more people out there who wouldn't have seen as us as monsters but, it's so hard some days. Well, anyways, father fled into a land far away from where he and mother lived, which was north of here. It was hard for him, caring for a young cub that couldn't shift on her own yet."

Root saw the look of confusion on Regis' face as she glanced over.

"Are you…are you saying you were born in your shifted form? Oh, my dear Root, I thought you meant you were…"

"Just a really big baby?" she finished, with a slight smile. "No. I came out teeth, fur, claws and all, like you saw the other night, only smaller. It was a full moon that night."

"Ah, I see. So your father was shifted too." Regis said softly and Root nodded. "What a woman your mother must've been. To not only not fear him, but love him. And even more, to birth his offspring into the world, knowing what it might cost her."

Root smiled and continued walking down the path, stooping to pick up an odd stick and sweeping it along as they walked.

"We lived in isolation until I was seven years old. Only then, when the full moon finally set on the morning after my seventh birthday, did I first learn what it was to be human. I don't recall what brought about my shift but I remember it was frightening. All of sudden I couldn't feel the earth under my paws, I couldn't smell all the scents of the forest, I couldn't see in the dark…and I screamed, not recognizing my own voice. But there was father, at my side, and he helped me through it. Is this boring you? I can, ya know, stop here if you like."

"Only if you like. No pressure." He replied. "But if I may say, that must've been dreadful for you. What a unique perspective you have, Root. I never considered what it would be like for an animal, werewolf or otherwise, to suddenly become human. All that they would lose and how the world would seem to them. My goodness but you're fascinating, my dear. But please, continue. Forgive my scholarly interest."

"So, after that things actually got a little easier. Since we lived alone in the deep woods, we could shift when we wanted to and of course when the full moon would rise we'd be forced into transformation. But now we come to the particular nature of my transformations. While father's bloodline can shift at will, and is only forced into a shift on the full moon, which I also share, we began noticing that I would shift randomly, without warning and with no particular moon phase present in the sky. We looked for months for a pattern, but never found one. We never discovered why."

"And of course living in isolation this probably wasn't very distressing at the time, am I right?" Regis inquired.

Root nodded and lightly trailed her fingers over the white and black birch bark of the surrounding trees, tossing the stick into the brush. Which disturbed a small ground squirrel that bounded away from the otherworldly beings it thought were surely coming for it.

"Precisely." She replied. "But then when father got sick and passed away around my thirty-eighth winter, I knew I didn't have the skills to maintain the homestead he'd built. I had some woodland lore, hunting and foraging skills but…I was a forest child, wolf born, not a farmer's daughter. So I buried him on his land, and stayed on just through the winter. Then I abandoned it, leaving it unlocked for whomever might need a place, and I traveled for a week on my own, looking for…I wasn't even sure. But I found solace in a group of elves who didn't seem to mind a werewolf in their company. They taught me plant lore in exchange for my patrolling their borders, keeping away unwanted visitors. It was they who helped me blend the tonic that I use to control my shifting. But…"

"The tonic takes away all your shifts though doesn't it." Regis said, gazing up to the moon as a cloud passed overhead.

"Almost. As you saw, extreme duress can trigger them. But mostly, yes." Root said sadly. "But…I have to have it. I…I can't live around humans and risk shifting in front of them. And while the tonic was, is, helpful, unfortunately it meant the elves no longer had their intimidating protector for their borders. And I wouldn't impose on their hospitality without something to offer so, I left and set up a small shack in the woods. Close enough to a village to get supplies, far enough to be ignored by the locals. And, well you know the rest. That's where Geralt found me."

Regis and Root walked in silence for a while, having left the woods and began making a wide circle in the meadow back toward their small camp. The tall grass nodded in the gentle breeze, and fireflies danced around them like golden stars. The vampire was absolutely astounded by her story, and felt a massive connection to her struggle to fit in with various societies. Something he himself had worked on for centuries. He looked over at her as they walked, and was again stunned by her wild beauty. Her short hair clearly cut with a hunting knife and not by a barber; her light brown skin and green eyes the color of the pine forests of Skellige.

"Root," Regis began. "Is it important for you to know, now, why you shift randomly?"

She stopped and turned to look at him, her eyes searching and hopeful.

"Do you think I could ever find out?" she asked.

"I would, with your permission, like to see through your eyes exactly what happened on the night of your birth. I have a hunch I know what happened. But, this may bring it into your memory. And if you've no wish to know, it may be better to leave it alone." He explained.

"I do want to know!" she exclaimed. "It would give me such a better understanding of my life."

He nodded. "And if I'm right, we can perhaps work on…well, we'll get to that. But I must also tell you, Root, it will involve two things. I will need to deeply entrance you and I will need a little bit of your blood."

Root furrowed her brow but she was not afraid, only confused.

"But, Regis, you said you don't drink blood."

He smiled in his mysterious way. "I don't. But if it will help you, I only need a little. This is more a bit of blood magic aided by my vampire gifts. I wouldn't be drinking from you, my dear. Your blood will be the lens through which I can read your memories, once I bring those memories to the forefront."

"You can do that? All the way back to the night of my birth? But I don't remember anything. Everything I told you was told to me by my father." She replied.

He nodded. "You don't consciously remember; but the blood remembers."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

They had made their way back to the camp and found the White Wolf sitting at the fire, whittling a piece of wood into a little carving that began to resemble a stout dwarven man. He looked up at them both, nodded and went back to his work.

"Good evening, White Wolf." Root said pleasantly.

"Let me just prepare a space for us to work. I'll be right back." Regis said and went to the wagon.

Geralt glanced at Regis and then looked at the woman who came to the fire and sat down on the ground.

"You needn't call me that. Geralt is fine." He replied.

"If you prefer, although I quite like the title. For obvious reasons." She replied, giving him a glance from under her dark lashes. "What are you carving there?"

"Nothing specific. Just a little something to pass the time. You don't play Barrel do you?" he asked, tilting his blade to get the design on the braided beard just right.

"No. I'm afraid I never learned any of the games fancied at inns and taverns. I would love to learn though." She said, glancing up as Regis returned carrying a small black leather satchel, a pillow, a fur and a couple blankets.

Geralt raised an eyebrow and glanced at the two of them.

"Should I erm…ya know…I can leave for a bit."

Root flushed deep crimson and averted her gaze to the forest floor while Regis simply rolled his eyes. He placed the pillow against a tree trunk and laid out the heavy blanket over the fur.

"Good gracious, Geralt. I'm over four hundred years old. You'd think I'd have figured out…oh…forget it." Regis said giving the legendary hunter a sideways glance.

The Witcher put up his hands, "OK, OK. So what are you doing?"

"Come sit over here, Root, and get comfortable while I prepare a few things." Regis said, this time making sure he altered his voice in a much more noticeable way.

Root glanced over at the Witcher, her ear tips still red from his insinuation, but she felt compelled to do as Regis had said. Geralt noticed the switch as well but Regis silenced any question with a glance. The vampire sat down beside her and opened the satchel, taking out a bit of square cloth, a small glass bottle of quality alcohol, a long strip of rolled cloth, a surgeon's scalpel and small bowl made of white bone.

"Now, I need you to give me explicit permission to perform this. I am going to deeply entrance you, take a bit of your blood, and read your memories in order to see through your eyes. Do I have your permission?" Regis asked.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Good. Thank you." He said, and covered her legs with the blankets. "Now, rest your hands lightly on your lap. Take a deep breath and as you let it out, look right here, right into my eyes. No need to stare, just look as if you were gazing into the night sky."

She looked up into Regis' eyes, dark and beautiful. It was almost as if she could see within them, as if something within beckoned her.

"There you go. And just breathe deeply, nice and easy. All you need do is listen." he said softly, in a voice that was so beautiful she couldn't remember ever hearing anything so lovely before. "Now just fall into them, Root, like you were slipping into a warm spring at night. Notice your eyelids becoming heavy now, just like falling asleep."

As her eyes closed, Regis reached forward and covered her face. The woman sank deep into the spell, her hands sliding slowly to the side, shoulders relaxed, and her head slightly turned to the side, resting on the pillow he'd provided for her. He let his soft fingers trail over her eyelids, giving them the unspoken command to remain closed.

"Now, Root, I'm going to speak to Geralt and you will not hear anything we say until I say your name again. Do you understand?" he said.

"Yes." She whispered softly, her voice otherworldly and far away.

"Geralt, if you would be so kind as to set up yrden wards around our camp." Regis said, turning to the Witcher. "And be ready with that silver sword of yours. You may need it."

"You could've given me some notice." The Witcher grumbled. "And why all the theatrics, Regis? You could've just looked into her eyes and put her out. I've seen you do that before."

"I can do as such if there is no time for proper preparation. But this way it's more like she's seeing a doctor and not a vampire." He said. "I'm trying to help her, not seduce her. Although it's been ages since I've used my powers for that anyways so…"

"Could've fooled me. Oh, don't pretend offense, old friend. Besides, you don't need to seduce her and you know it. It's plain as day how you two feel. I'm not judging. Yennefer and I…"

"Yes, yes I know about you and Yennefer. Can you set the wards please? We can chat about my feelings later." And he gave his friend a smile, showing that he wasn't really upset.

Geralt rose and walked around the perimeter of their camp, setting up the ancient sign which would alert them if anything supernatural outside the circle breached the barrier. He then stood calmly but ready, leaning up against the wagon with his arms crossed.

"Thank you. Root, hear my voice." Regis said, taking her hand and turning the palm up.

"Yes…" she replied.

"Good. I want you to see yourself floating on a red river, and you're being carried safely on the vessel of my voice. And you will hear my voice no matter how far down the river you go. This river is your bloodline, Root. And you are drifting in the present time, the harbor of this current moment, safe with me and Geralt. Can you see that?" he said, his voice becoming very hypnotic such that Geralt had to focus not to get caught up in the vampire's spell. The Witcher was immune to normal hypnosis, but vampire magic was different.

"Yes…" Root said, her voice becoming very quiet as she sank deeper.

Regis placed a hand on her shoulder and lightly pressed her into the pillow.

"Now begin to flow backward in time on this red river. And see all the happy, positive memories flow by you as you do. We leave any other memories there, and notice only the one's that made you happy for now." He said softly.

She smiled slightly, her eyelids beginning to twitch as if dreaming.

"Flow back even further on the river. Back, back, so far back into your bloodline that you are now that small seven year old cub, happily roaming the forest, knowing only the peace and security of your father." Regis droned on, becoming slightly entranced himself in order to lead her.

Geralt raised an eyebrow over him calling the woman a cub, but he remained silent. He could feel the power radiating from the vampire now. The White Wolf knew without a doubt that his friend was indeed very, very powerful but rarely showed it.

"And back even further, Root, back into the bloodline right at the moment of your birth. And hold there for a moment and feel nothing but joy and happiness flood your body, knowing that your father and mother love you so." He said, bringing his focus to the present to swab her skin with the cloth dipped in alcohol.

She did not move at all. "And now you are being born. And you remain calm and focused on my voice. You see the world as your eyes open, werewolf eyes that see more than you remember."

Regis used the scalpel and made a delicate incision into her wrist, allowing just a few drops to fall into the bone bowl. He then pressed a clean cloth to the wound, and wrapped the thin strip around her wrist to secure it. The vampire then placed one hand over her eyes, and raised the bone bowl to his lips, licking the few drops from it.

The Witcher noticed the shift in the air around them immediately, and he felt pressure against the wards. Something was trying to get through. Regis' mind looked through the red haze that now covered his vision, seeing the room through a newborn Root's keen eyes. He saw a massive, brown furred werewolf with eyes the color of a pine forest standing near the bed. Her father picked her up, and Regis' vision shifted and he saw what he was looking for. There in the cabin window, looking in with jealous eyes was a figure, and they were casting hex signs.

"Regis…" Geralt said softly in a cautious voice.

The wind had picked up, and the fire snapped. With a voice that was terrifying to hear, Regis bared his teeth and snarled at the figure, yet unseen by Geralt, "You will manifest your spirit now!"

And the Witcher watched as a form materialized just outside of the wards. It was skeletal, and reeked of death, but was clearly the remains of what used to be a human person dressed in shredded, soiled and tattered garments. It just stood there, silently, its hollow eye sockets staring. Regis came out of his trance, but Root simply slept on, oblivious to anything. The vampire rose up, and Geralt knew then why many witchers feared the ancient higher vampires and rarely took contracts for them, no matter the rewards promised. Regis was menacing in a way that made even the legendary White Wolf shudder. His eyes were black as pitch, and the very night seemed to coalesce around him to do his bidding. Geralt drew the silver sword and shadowed him as he approached the figure.

"You cursed her." Regis said in a voice so soft and yet so filled with venom that Geralt felt sure any living being would've dropped dead upon hearing it. "Why? Explain yourself, woman. I command you."

The fiend, cursed herself for cursing another, had no power to refuse the command of such a venerable vampire such as Emiel _Regis_.

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!" she shrieked, a sound so forlorn and filled with hatred that Geralt visibly shook. "Jealous! Jealousy! We wanted a child of our own but none came to us! NONE!" spoke the figure, grinding its teeth in bitter resentment, the jaw rubbing bone on bone, the sightless eyes glaring at the powerful being before her.

"But the filthy monster; filthy werewolf mating with a human and they get a baby of their own! We HATE THEM! We cursed her, cursed her to not be able to control herself! She would be found out! They would be found out and suffer as I have SUFFERED! AHHHHHH! Let me go! Let me go!" The woman cried and wailed.

Regis was furious at the shallow, pitiful excuse for a person laid before him. He bared his fangs and growled so fiercely that the woman shrank before him, falling to the ground, groveling, begging to be released from the will that bound her to that plane of existence.

"By the blood of my ancient forebears this curse is broken. And you, wicked soul, are banished forever; your hold over her is no more." Regis said and he bit into his wrist, sucked deeply, and then spat the blood onto the specter, who wailed in pain as it burned her bones like acid.

"End it, Geralt." He said, turning away.

And the White Wolf cut down the skeletal form with a slash of the silver blade that glistened with specter oil, the bones dissolving into ash as they fell to the ground. In an instant the wind died, and all went silent. The wards dissolved, having done their duty and the dust of the jealous neighbor was blown into the creek. For it is known that running water prevents spirits from finding their way.

Regis closed his eyes and sighed softly, his wound sealing almost instantly. He then packed away his instruments after cleaning them, and sat down beside the resting woman. He took a moment to calm himself, and reflect on all Root had shared with him. He listened as the night became once more a soothing and pleasant backdrop rather than his servant. For he could command the night like many vampires, he just rarely did so. Regis thanked the ancients of his bloodline and he whispered a few words to Root's father, hoping that he might in some way know that his daughter had peace.

"You're free now." He whispered, brushing a lock of her short hair behind her ear. "Time to wake up, Root. Come back now. Come back to us."

Root slowly opened her eyes and looked up into Regis' face. They were cloudy from being so deeply enspelled, but after a few moments it was like a rainstorm cleared and he could see the green of her gaze piercing through the grey haze of his magic. She began to blink.

"There you are, almost there, my dear. Come back, all the way back." Regis said, changing his voice back to the light, conversational tone he used in everyday speaking.

Geralt came and sat by the fire, pouring some fresh water into the kettle and setting it in the coals. He was not a master herbalist, but he did know that those delivered from curses often needed something to ground them back into the world. Some tea and leftover meat from supper would have to do.

"Re…Regis…Geralt?" Root said softly, her eyes focusing first on the vampire and then the witcher.

"Yes, we're both here. Ahh there you are. Back safe and sound. Do you remember anything?" Regis asked, lightly laying his hand on hers.

"Yes. Everything. I could see through your eyes. Oh, Regis you are…the power I felt was…is…I can hardly believe it!" she said, her eyes adoring the man before her, not fearing him in the slightest. But in awe of the regal majesty she'd seen and felt while connected to his mind.

Regis smiled, and bowed his head, graciously accepting her praise.

"You honor me. I do not call on that power often, but it has its place and uses." He said humbly.

Root leaned toward him and placed one hand on his cheek, the other on his chest and softly kissed the corner of his lips. The ancient vampire was stunned for a moment, breathless. It'd be years since he'd felt the sincere and loving kiss of a woman on his mouth. She nuzzled him with the tip of her nose, breathing in his scent; the scent of the forest, the scent of home.

"Thank you." She whispered.

He slowly raised his hand and took hers, entwining their fingers. He could've remained there for a hundred years and never once tired of her presence, and she felt the same for him.

"Ahem." Came Geralt's gruff voice from the fire.

Root flushed red but she smiled and so did Regis. They parted and both looked over to the great witcher, legendary in his own time, who did his best to look annoyed but only ended up shaking his head with the usual smirk across the aged and scarred face.

"Ah you've got the kettle ready." Regis said. "Well done, Witcher. Excellent. Let me get my tea."

While Regis was searching through one of his many bags of herbs and plants, Root came closer to the fire and sat beside the White Wolf.

"And thank you, Geralt. I don't know what fate or circumstances led you to cross my path but, I'm thankful you followed them. Had you not, I couldn't have received this tremendous gift of healing and closure. How can I ever repay you?" she asked him, admiring the great hunter.

He inclined his head to her, accepting the thanks. "I appreciate the offer. But might I remind you that I initially set out to turn you over to my employer. Things could've gone very badly for you, Root. You don't know what he wanted to do. I do."

"I know." She said softly. "But, you didn't; for whatever reason you didn't. And I would see you repaid. Since your kindness and goodwill did cost you a reward did it not?"

"It did. Sort of. I mean, we didn't exactly buy all the booze we're carrying." He said with a sly grin.

"So I would ask of you the only thing I can that would be equal to sparing your life." He continued, and turned his eyes to her. "Make his life happy for all the days and nights you find yourself in his company. Regis is one of my best friends, who understands me better than anyone, except maybe Dandelion…maybe. If you can make him happy, than sparing you repays me one hundred fold."

Root smiled and nodded to him. "I will, Gwynbleidd. I promise."

Regis returned the fire and dropped a variety of herbs, flowers and roots into the kettle of boiling water. Geralt reached into one of his traveling pouches and gave Root a hard bit of venison jerky to eat.

"Here. Chew on this. It'll help ground you. Don't you wrinkle your nose at it. You've just had a curse lifted from you and you might feel fine, but you need…to…

The Witcher's voice trailed off as Root stood up and unceremoniously undid the belt, dropped the doeskin pants and slid the silk shirt from her body. Dandelion's clothing now lay in a heap at her delicate bare feet. And the night air caressed her naked body, making parts of it perky. The two men simply sat there, speechless.

"Remember when you asked me if the fur helps keep me warm? It does." she said coyly.

Neither of them could say a word. And in a magical instant, the huge brown furred werewolf with wild green eyes stood before them. She lowered her head, laid back her elongated ears and touched a cold wolf nose to Regis'. She then growled playfully and with a mighty flexing of her powerful back legs, leapt over both men, cleared the wagon and bounded into the forest after anything that was not dried meat.

The White Wolf slowly turned his head to look at Regis, who looked back and then handed him a tin cup.

"Tea?"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Later that evening, the trio of travelers sat around their fire enjoying the cool summer night. Root was again clothed and nestled against Regis' side wrapped in her capelet and one of the furs from the wagon, while the vampire enjoyed a pipe, and Geralt was putting the finishing touches on the wood-carved dwarf he'd been working on. The Witcher glanced over to Root, and at the fur she was using to cover herself. He wondered whether or not she knew that it was a werewolf pelt, or if he should tell her.

"So, my dear, it would seem fairly conclusive that you plan on coming with us on our journeys then." Regis said, drawing deeply on his pipe.

"If you'll have me, I'd like that very much. I've nothing to go home to. And given what Geralt has told me, I don't think it'd be safe to return there anyways. What are your thoughts, White Wolf?" she said, looking at the white haired warrior.

He nodded. "I agree. Although I cannot promise your safety when traveling with us either. It's a dangerous road and these are very hard times. It would seem you've been fairly isolated during much of your life, Root. And while I'm not judging you, I don't think you may be aware of the bigger political picture being drawn out across many nations right now. In that I envy you. But, such is life. And here we are."

The woman nodded, feeling a bit ashamed of her ignorance, although she knew Geralt had not intended any offense or hurt. "I understand. And you're right; I've no understanding of such things. But I have made it part of my studies to know good manners, at least when among humans. And the elves taught me a bit of their custom when I stayed with them. So I promise I won't be a bother. And I can aid us too with food, hunting, foraging, mending clothing and some healing if needed. Of course defaulting to our master herbalist here."

The Witcher nodded, satisfied with the answer and her humility about having lived in seclusion. He looked at his old friend and saw such happiness in the vampires' face that he could never bring himself to dismiss her, unless she was absolutely a liability that would endanger others. But with the curse lifted, they'd only have to be aware of the full moons, which they already had been minding since Regis had joined up with the Witcher some time ago. For the vampire too had certain powers that were only available to him during that time. Geralt then noticed that Root was softly trailing her fingers across the pelt, smoothing the golden brown fur.

"Do you know?" he asked, beginning to peel an apple with his large blade, motioning to the hide.

Root nodded. "Yes. Did…did they deserve to die?"

Geralt was entirely unsure how to answer that question. For he knew what Falithe had been doing to the werewolves upon capturing them. But how he could answer that question, without revealing more about the revolting elf and his kink, he wasn't sure. The Witcher could see though that his prolonged silence was giving the impression that he was responsible.

"Did they deserve to die? I don't know. Did I kill them? No." he replied, cutting the apple and eating the pieces from his knife.

"I see. May I ask how you came to have these pelts then?" she asked.

"No." he replied curtly.

There was a silence between them for some time. Root chastised herself for being nosy and stared at the ground. The fire crackled and sparked while the Witcher finished his apple, tossing the core into the pit.

"I'm sorry. That was too bold of me. I apologize, Geralt." She said softly.

He sighed heavily and ran a hand through his long white hair, then rubbed the salt and pepper stubble on his aged but strong face. Geralt's stomach turned at the memory of meeting Falithe aen Caem, and he hated thinking about it. He also hated the idea that the woman sitting with him almost ended up as one of the elf's mantle pieces. And it would've been by his hands.

"Every moment you sit here you make me question what I'm doing. What I am." He said quietly, but she heard.

Silence.

"How so?" she asked after a time. "What can I do to help, White Wolf?"

"You could act more like a monster!" he said, exasperated, and got up, throwing his blade into the wagon where it sunk deep and stuck, swaying slightly.

"Just…forget it." The Witcher grumbled. "I'm not great with words and I know I've given you the wrong impression so…just…"

And he walked off into the darkness with a curse of frustration. Root looked over to Regis.

"That's our Geralt." Regis said softly, blowing smoke rings into the air. "He gets cranky like that sometimes. And I know what you're thinking, and that's not what he meant. But I'll let him sort it out when he's ready."

"Does he not want me here?" Root asked.

"On the contrary, my dear. Although I know right now that doesn't make any sense. But for you, it's time to rest." He said, setting his pipe aside and pulling the blanket up closer to her.

"Oh, I'm not really tired. It isn't that late besides." She said, glancing up toward the moon to gauge the time.

Regis laid two fingers on her chin and gently turned her face to his, looking deeply into her green eyes.

"That isn't why. I'm going to have words with our witcher and you…aren't going to remember that." He said in his rhythmic voice, enspelling her.

Root's shoulders relaxed and her head became heavy, sinking slowly to her chest. Regis then situated her by the fire comfortably before rising and following Geralt's path down to the creek. He found the Witcher standing at the waters edge, tossing pebbles into the dark water as it flowed by.

"Don't start, vampire. Go away." Geralt growled.

Regis sighed heavily. "This again, eh? That didn't work last time and it won't work now, nor ever. But you're welcome to keep trying. It adds to your charm how easily you think you can drive people away."

Geralt threw another stone into the water and it skipped across the surface.

"Has every moment we've been friends equally made you question yourself?" Regis asked, standing by his side, folding his arms.

"Shut up, Regis. You know damn well that in the beginning I struggled with having you around. If Dandelion hadn't needed you to stitch up his wound…"

"Oh, I see. So I'm only a surgeon to you then? I'm useful? Come now, old friend, enough with this. You and I have traveled together for how long now? I know my friendship means more to you than having someone around who's handy with a stitch and a scalpel. And I know, even understand, your frustration with having Root around. It's not because she's a werewolf, it's because of Falithe. And that makes you question what witchers do, and whether you still are one." The vampire said, giving expression to Geralt's thoughts.

Geralt clenched his fists, and lowered his head. "How many times did I not see the sick fuck lurking in my employers, Regis? How many Root's have fallen to my silver and steel? If I can't know the monsters by appearance, how can I do this work? What am I needed for?"

Regis put a hand on the Witcher's arm. "We need you because you're a good man, Geralt of Rivia. And don't you give me that shit about being a mutant. Look how Yennefer loves you. Yes, loves you, Geralt. Does it look like she cares about whether or not you continue to hunt monsters? Or whether you choose silver or steel? I knew what you were when you found me hiding in that old cemetery. I could've charmed my way out of your company, or left you all asleep in my shack after you had consumed copious amounts of mandrake moonshine. But I didn't, even though I knew the risk. Why would I do that? Why risk myself after surviving for over four hundred years, six hundred by elven reckoning? Because I can see what you often cannot; that you're a good man who happens to be a witcher. As I am a good man who happens to be a vampire."

The White Wolf sighed heavily and turned to walk back to the camp, but stopped for a moment and put a hand on Regis' shoulder. There were no words needed, and they then returned to the fire together. Root lay quiet as Regis took a seat beside her, and Geralt grabbed a beer from the wagon before sitting down. The vampire noticed his glance to the sleeping woman.

"That is my doing this time." He said. "I will let you sort things out with her on your own time. But I didn't want her to hear our conversation."

Geralt nodded. "Thank you. You could wake her though."

"I could but she wouldn't want to wake right now." Regis replied. "She's dreaming. And one should avoid waking a dreamer if they can help it."

The Witcher took a big swig of the some what warm henbane beer and put his boots up on another log beside the fire. He hated Falithe. _But damn he made good booze_. He thought.

"How can you know that?" Geralt asked.

Regis tapped the side of his head. "I have a connection to her mind while she is under my spell."

"What is she dreaming about?" the Witcher asked casually.

Regis looked up and gave his friend quite the amused look and a raised eyebrow.

"My, my aren't we the nosy one. I dare say that beer has gone a little to your head." The vampire said, pulling out a book on star constellations and a map of the night sky.

The Witcher shrugged. "Hey, she was nosy about the pelts so…what is she dreaming about?"

"Might I remind you, even though it was only a few moments ago, that you refused to tell her where the pelts came from. But if you must know, she's dreaming about you." Regis said, glancing up at Geralt.

Geralt gave his friend a smirk. "Bet that has to hurt, eh?"

"Not even a little bit. I didn't say what she was dreaming about, Mr. Full of Himself." The vampire said, checking the sky above with the map he had laid out on his lap.

They bantered back and forth for a while, neither of them serious in their jabs at each other, as old friends are wont to do. After a while the Witcher finished another beer and left to relieve himself. Regis reached over and laid his hand on Root's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

"Wake up, my dear." He said softly, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand, lifting the spell.

She blinked a few times and yawned.

"Oh. More tired than I'd thought." She said, rolling onto her back and adjusting the pillow behind her head. "What I'd give for a proper bed. Sleeping on the ground is fine when shifted but, this is not great for the human side of me."

Regis chuckled. "Ah how I think Dandelion would appreciate that sentiment. He's quite used to a more cosmopolitan and comfortable life in the large cities. I remember traveling with him, fondly too, although he often erm…how does one say it…put his foot in it. Yes, I believe that's it."

"Can you tell me about him? What a lovely name. Dandelion. One of the most humble plants and yet also one of the most versatile, healthy and healing that we have." Root said, peering over her blanket as the Witcher came back to camp.

"The words humble and Dandelion should never be used in the same sentence." Geralt said, setting his twin blades against the wheel of the wagon and grabbing the feedbag for Roach. "But Regis is right. The bard often puts his foot in it. Usually right into his own mouth."

"Sounds like I have that in common with him." Root said, cautiously testing the Witcher's mood.

Geralt looked over to her, and then came and crouched by her side, reaching into one of the small pouches on his belt. He held something in his gloved hand. Root sat up, leaning her back against the tree and gasped as he opened his fist.

"I've been working on this off an on. And it would seem now is a good time to give it to you." The Witcher said in his soft, gravelly voice.

In the palm of his hand lay an elegantly carved wooden wolf of simple design, its muzzle up and howling.

"I'm sorry, Root. I'm sorry for what I said earlier, and I promise one day soon I will explain. But I can't right now. On that day I think you'll understand why it's hard for me to talk about it." He said, taking her hand and closing her fingers around the figurine. He then leaned forward and gently kissed the top of her head.

The forest maiden was speechless and flushed deep crimson from head to toe. The vampire gave a slight nod to his friend, silently approving.

"Please don't say anything, you don't need to." He said as she opened her mouth to reply. Root smiled and remained quiet.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"We will need to refresh some basic supplies soon, so I thought we'd head across the creek and cross into Viziman territory within the next few days. I have a friend there who should be able to set us up with what we need. And as luck would have it, I believe our Dandelion is entertaining the court in Vizima proper." Geralt said, sitting himself on a log near the couple.

"Ah excellent!" Regis said enthusiastically. "I do miss that bard. He plays such lovely music, Root, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Perhaps he'll join our group for a while."

"I look forward to meeting him indeed." She said happily with a yawn. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

The woman got up and walked away from the fire, giving Geralt's horse Roach a soft pat on the muzzle. The old mare had become so used to both Regis and Root that she didn't mind in the least a werewolf and a vampire sharing the camp with her master. She simply munched oats and dried fruits happily with a twitch of her ears.

The forest maiden walked a short distance down the worn trail near the creek to do her business. When finished, she sauntered along the path, seeing clearly in the light of the waxing gibbous moon. In a few days she knew she'd shift and remain in that form from moonrise to sunrise. And she certainly hoped this Dandelion didn't mind sharing camp with a werewolf. She too considered that she may have to wait outside of the city proper if they weren't able to get in and out before that time. It'd been a long, long time since Root had seen any major city and while her heart belonged to the forest, a part of her was deeply curious about city folk. She hoped to spend a day wandering and seeing the sights. She glanced back and saw the flicker of the fire, the wagon, Regis and Geralt and a flood of absolute peace and happiness filled her; a feeling that had been absent in her life since her father had passed on. Root was so lost in her reverie that she did not sense the figure behind her. And it was too late when she felt cold steel kiss her throat.

"Do not move or make a sound." Spoke a rough voice right into her ear, a body pressing up to her back. "I'm going to ask you this once and you're going to reply or I paint the meadow with your blood. Who are you and by whose leave do you travel these lands?"

Root wanted to shift, but the knife was too close to her throat that she'd risk cutting herself if she did so.

"I…I don't understand what you mean." She stammered quietly, not understanding what he meant by "leave".

But it did occur to her that she shouldn't tell this person who she was with, nor cry out for their aid in case that would bring them harm. Surely this man would've seen the fire flickering in the distance. So why he singled her out for confrontation she did not know. Perhaps seeing the two men, one of them armored, was too much of a risk.

"Vernon!" she heard Geralt shout in his deep, commanding tone.

The man turned his head toward the unmistakable voice, keeping Root secured against his lightly armored body. The assailant watched as two glowing eyes walked toward his position, carried by the powerful figure of a man bearing twin blades on his back, clad in silvery leather and maile, his white hair hanging loosely around his shoulders. He recognized him immediately but did not let go.

"Son of a bitch. Geralt of Rivia." The man, apparently named Vernon, said. "What in the world are you doing here?"

"She's with us. Let her go." Geralt said.

Vernon raised an eyebrow, for he'd seen no one else approach but the White Wolf.

"Us?" he asked. "You hiding a lover in that chain maile?"

Geralt's eyes drifted past Vernon's shoulder to where Regis had positioned himself without the commander of Temeria's special forces hearing a sound.

"Not exactly. Now if you'd be so kind as to oblige the witcher's request. I believe the woman has fainted." Regis said softly.

Surprised by the stealth of the figure behind him, he turned to see, not a professional soldier like he expected, but a middle aged man with noble features and dark eyes dressed in simple clothing finished with a black cloak about his lean shoulders. Vernon had felt the woman go limp but was holding her so tightly that her body had no where to go. He slowly removed the dagger and Regis stepped forward, taking Root into his arms and lifting her as if she weighed no more than a small child. Vernon sheathed his blade and stepped up to the Witcher.

"Vernon Roche, you fucking whoreson." Geralt said, and the two grasped each others' forearms in a strong shake. "It's been too long."

"Geralt. Damn it all why didn't you send word you were traveling so close to our borders? These are bad times, friend. Just across the creek, about a mile or so, we took out a camp of filth raiding the back roads into Vizima. You're lucky I found her before the likes of them did. They wouldn't have asked questions." The man called Roche said.

"Long story. One I can't share." Geralt said, with a glance to Regis who passed by him. "We? You're not out here alone then?"

Geralt had to suppress a grin. Their big, hairy, sometimes flirty werewolf companion may be frightening to look upon when shifted. But she sure wasn't amazing in the willpower or strength departments in human form.

"I'm doing a wide sweep of the area but the Blue Stripes are camped not too far off." He said. "I should report to them before they send someone out to search."

"What's with holding women at knife point these days, eh?" Geralt asked, crossing his arms. "Did she look dangerous to you?"

Vernon's blue eyes were mysterious and serious. "Those who don't look dangerous often are the most so. Surely you know this better than anyone."

Roche could not know how close to the mark he hit with that response so Geralt remained composed.

"Fair enough." He grumbled.

"We've had a lot of strangers on our borders is all. And with war erupting in almost every corner of the world, I'm not taking any chances when I find travelers along my roads. She could've just answered. Why didn't she? She said she didn't know what I meant when I asked her by whose leave she traveled here. Is she…ya know…" Vernon asked.

"No, she's sane. She's just been a little sheltered. Again, long story. Will you join us for a bit? Couple of drinks like old times?" Geralt asked.

"I'd like that. Let me report in and I'll come back shortly." He said and walked off into the darkness.

Geralt returned to the camp to find Regis in his usual place by the fire, book in hand, pipe smoldering and Root sleeping next to him.

"She hasn't woken up yet? I think she's spent more time unconscious than conscious over the last few days." the Witcher asked, grabbing a wooden crate of the henbane beer from the wagon and setting it with a thump near the fire.

The vampire glanced up, looked at the dark brown bottles, and then back up at the Witcher who was getting out some dried meat, bread and cheese.

"Is he coming back here?" Regis asked, his dark eyes looking unfriendly. "And yes, she did. And straight away went into a panic so I had to put her back out to keep her from shifting. And while you're correct about her being unconscious a lot, you may recall there were reasons for it."

Geralt heard the edge in his friends' voice and stopped a moment.

"Would you mind explaining to me why I shouldn't rip that man's throat out? Because while I don't drink blood, I may consider bathing in it for one night." Regis said, his voice deadly calm and serious.

The White Wolf was surprised to hear the threat of violence from his old friend. He knew that Regis had the power and strength to tear Vernon Roche limb from limb as if he were parchment, but never had he heard him actually threaten anyone. The cursed woman from the other night excepted.

"What's got you all wound up, Regis? Vernon Roche is a soldier, and head of Temeria's team of elite forces. It's his job to be wary of strangers in his liege's land. He didn't know who she was or who she was with. For all he knew she was part of a raiding party out for a piss." Geralt explained, seating himself by the fire.

Regis considered the response and his features relaxed, the dark fire going out from his eyes. He drew deeply on his pipe and exhaled.

"A fair enough and sufficient explanation. Forgive me." He said and turned back to his book.

The White Wolf rolled his eyes, but didn't judge the man too harshly. After all, had it been Yennefer being held at knife point in a strangers' arms, Geralt was fairly sure the stranger wouldn't have had a head after about five seconds. Nor arms. In that regard, Regis' response was tempered and reasonable.

The Witcher turned his head slightly, hearing the approach of booted feet nearing their camp. And a moment later the figure of Vernon Roche came into the light of the fire. He was of medium build, clad in studded leather pants and a dark blue and white striped coat, with leather riding gloves and black boots.

"Have a seat. And try this, it's the best damn beer I've had in years." Geralt said, passing Roche a bottle. "Don't ask where it came from because I'm not telling you."

Vernon sat down on the log bench and had a long pull from the open bottle. The henbane beer was dark and bitter with a hint of tartness on the finish.

"Thanks. That is quite good, too bad it's warm though. Ah you have food. Excellent. We've not had much luck hunting with the raids going on, much of the game has cleared out. So it's been slim pickings. What I would give for a homecooked meal." Roche said, helping himself to the bread and cheese Geralt had put out on a platter. "Is she not awake yet? What's her problem?"

Regis slowly looked up from his book, met Roche's gaze and looked the man up and down. A part of him wanted to show the soldier just how precarious a situation he was in, how vulnerable. But Regis was generally not inclined to shows of force or displays of power, unless it was deemed necessary. The vampire smiled mysteriously, careful to veil his teeth, and closed his book.

"What?" Roche said, feeling a chill run up his spine for some unknown reason.

"My companion here has a very delicate condition and I'm afraid your close proximity to her body," Regis began. "triggered a state of high anxiety when she did come to. The remedy of which was to place her into a deep sleep in order to allow her body and mind to rest."

Roche laughed out loud. "That's usually what happens to women when I get close to them. A good orgasm will knock out even the strongest of them, eh Geralt! Ha! Ah, but seriously, I understand. I gave her quite a fright. And who are you, my good sir?"

"Emiel Regis." The vampire replied quietly, not amused with the way the soldier spoke so highly of his sexual prowess.

"Vernon Roche, Commander of the Blue Stripes in service to his majesty King Foltest of Temeria. Honored to meet you, Emiel Regis, friend of Geralt." Roche replied, inclining his head respectfully. "So are you a doctor of sorts?"

Regis nodded his head. "I am indeed. Surgeon and herbalist."

Roche at least had the decency to discontinue asking about Root's "condition" and Regis had to sit for the whole of the evening and into the wee hours of morning listening to Geralt and Vernon go on about their old times while continuing to drink. Regis of course knew that it took far more to get the Witcher drunk because of his high metabolic rate, but he was fairly sure Vernon was about to pass out, puke or both.

"Vernon you look like shit." Geralt said with only slightly slurred speech. "You're not going to make it back to your camp."

The soldier stood up, stumbled and steadied himself on the wagon, bumping into Geralt's horse Roach, who whinnied and nudged the familiar figure with her muzzle.

"Fuck you…hic…Wolf. I'm fine." He said, and collapsed against the wagon, nearly falling over. "Hello, Roach old girl. Hey that's…my name…"

The Witcher looked over to Regis, but his friend scowled at him and went back to his reading. A resounding but silent, "Fuck off" communicated in that scowl. He may have forgiven the man for his action, but he wasn't impressed by his manners and saw no reason to aid Vernon Roche because he'd gotten shitfaced drunk.

Geralt sighed. "Fine."

The White Wolf got up, drew his fist back and thumped Roche square on the temple, knocking him out cold. He then heaved the man into the back of the wagon, tossed a blanket on him and left him.

"My way is much more elegant." Regis said with a smirk, turning the page of his book without looking up.

The Witcher ignored him, grabbed a blanket and leaned against the wagon wheel to catch a bit of sleep himself. He had to agree with Root on one account; a regular bed would indeed be a dream come true and a welcome change.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Just before dawn, Regis finished another one of his books. This time a treatise on the interactions of common herbs with herbs arriving after the Conjunction of the Spheres. He put a hand on Root's shoulder. He had only to will it for the spell to be lifted, but she continued to sleep for a bit naturally. He rose and went to get the kettle from the wagon, only to find the form of Vernon Roche still passed out in the back, obstructing his access to the crate carrying the cooking pots. Annoyed he decided that morning tea could wait and went for a stroll down by the creek. Geralt rested against the wagon, a heavy blanket wrapped about his shoulders and Regis wondered how on earth the Witcher could sleep in such a position as he walked past him. Roach whinnied a greeting and happily munched the grass that shimmered with dew. As he stood by the flowing water of the creek, Regis noted that the morning was indeed significantly cooler than the last few, signs that the first frost would soon be upon them. But as the golden sun climbed up over the horizon, shedding its light on the world, the vampire was reminded that in all his years, wars had come and gone and always the peoples lived on.

Back at the camp, Root opened her eyes and sat up slowly, rubbing her neck, which was getting more and more uncomfortable from sleeping on the hard ground. Running her hand through her short hair, she noted that Regis wasn't by her side but spotted him down by the creek, with the Witcher sleeping by the wagon. She stripped off her clothes and within the blink of an eye, the dark brown werewolf manifested and gave a mighty shake of her body, standing on all fours, flexing her paws and yawning deeply, revealing rows of shining teeth in her powerful maw. Geralt opened his eyes, sensing his medallion quiver during the transformation, and gave the werewolf a pleasant smile which she returned with a quiet whuff. She then lumbered down to the creek, with Regis turning to her.

"Good morning, my dear. Sleep well?" he asked.

She responded with another whuff, nodding her head and twitching her long ears, and then bent her head down to drink from the stream. The vampire stood by her side with his hand resting on her back, happy to be in the company of what the world saw as another monster; a monster that he loved and who loved him in return, fangs and all.

Geralt got up and muttered about his back being sore. After a stretch, he grabbed his twin blades and walked off into the woods. Root bounded off down the path towards the meadow and Regis went back to camp, becoming more annoyed by the minute that the man named Roche was not yet awake. So he contented himself with filling his pipe for a morning smoke and having a walk around like the others of his company.

The werewolf spent her time poking around the deep grasses of the meadow, spooking critters from their burrows and devouring them for her breakfast. One vole, then a few mice and even a hefty and too-slow rabbit filled her belly to fullness and she was happy. Licking her jowls, she then spied a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye and immediately dropped into a crouch. But as she looked, she saw that in the distance it was the Witcher. Curious, she approached.

Transfixed, the werewolf watched as the master swordsman performed ancient rituals of practice from memory. He was like a sword dancer, elegant, never rushing, smooth, gliding from one movement to the next seamlessly, his blades whirling around him in a silvery flash as the sunlight caressed the blades shining with powerful, magical runes. Geralt had removed his armor, shirt and boots, which left him wearing only his black pants and silver wolf medallion. And Root found herself staring, amazed at the perfection that the Witcher was, a near flawless machine of whirling death. Each swing of his swords whistled a dirge to the invisible foes he sought around him and the werewolf knew then that had he truly wanted to kill her, she'd have little chance against such precision and skill. She also found herself completely absorbed by the beauty of his body. Scarred in several places, it was nonetheless ripped with pure muscle, the sinews pulling with every movement, rolling under his pale skin. He slowed his dance, turned and stopped gracefully in a neutral position from which one could strike or defend, with his back to her. Root swallowed, seeing the sweat run down between his shoulders, his white hair stuck to the back of his neck. Geralt turned his head.

"Hello, Root." He said, his voice even, not winded or tired in the slightest.

The Witcher turned fully toward her, resting the twin blades against his shoulder and gazed at the werewolf seated in the grass.

"Don't ever let Yennefer catch you staring at me like that." He said with a grin. "I don't mind, but she'll make a cloak out of you."

Root had no idea who this Yennefer was, but was happy to know the Witcher didn't mind her gawking at him. She had to admit, Geralt was one fine piece of man. But he wasn't her Regis.

"Which, by the way, reminds me, can we talk?" he asked, slipping a light cotton shirt on while coming over to sit by her.

Geralt then told her all about Falithe aen Caem and his twisted fetish for werewolves and their pelts while Root listened quietly. When finished, they sat in silence as mid-morning approached.

"So, now you know. I took those pelts from him because I didn't want anyone else to find them. Nor sell them on the black market to other sick fucks that are into shit like that." The Witcher said.

Root nudged him with her muzzle, growled quietly and then turned back toward the meadow, slowly making her way back toward camp. Geralt wondered about her thoughts, but figured he'd ask later. He rose and headed toward the creek for a bath.

A very sore Vernon Roche sat up in the wagon and put a hand to his head, which was throbbing from a hangover and being thumped by a mailed fist.

"That son of a bitch. He hit me I bet." Roche grumbled.

He climbed down, noticed the fire was going and crouched to warm his hands, noting that no one was around except for the man Emiel Regis down by the creek. A crack off to the side alerted him to movement and his eyes widened with absolute shock as the werewolf came into view.

Root looked up, lost in her thoughts, and saw the man she recognized as he who had held her at knife point. A snarl ripped from her throat and she flexed her paws, unleashing three inch long claws that could shred the toughest of hides like ribbons. Her green eyes flashed, and glowed with an infernal rage. But he was a veteran warrior and quickly recovered his wits, grabbing the sword from his side and the dagger from his boot. But she was on him like lightning and sent the man hurling backwards with a swat of her forepaw. Roche landed heavily on his back, rolled to his feet and barely had time to see the massive form collide into him again and fling him into a tree. He fell in a heap, dazed, his vision blurry.

Regis, hearing the noise, turned, and all he saw was Vernon go flying into a birch and land with a thud. The werewolf howled with fury and leapt toward the human and Regis could see bloodlust in her eyes.

"Oh dear." Regis said, glancing toward Roche and then promptly vanished into thin air.

Vernon raised his arm as her teeth came down and he felt her bite into the hardened wrist guard he wore that was reinforced with banded steel. With a mighty twist of her head, she tore the gauntlet off, spat it out and lunged. But he rolled to the side deftly, slipping a large hunting knife from his other boot. In a second he was on his feet and faced her. Werewolf and man circled each other, for Root eyed the blade cautiously, smelling a distinct scent on the air. She growled fiercely, baring elongated canines.

"Yeah, it's silver." He said, a nasty smile twisting his features. "Not so brave now are you?"

Root lunged, making for his open side, exactly what he wanted her to do and just as he went to slash her muzzle, she feinted and snapped her jaws mere inches from his fingers, causing him to drop the blade to save his hand. Roche knew there was no way he would outrun her as she swatted his legs out from under him and then crushed him to the ground with her back paws, raising her foreclaws.

"Root, no!" she heard Geralt bark.

Turning, Root saw the Witcher and Regis race up, but she was so blinded that she roared at them, spittle flying from her fangs, turning her green eyes on the mighty swordsman, scenting silver on his person as well.

"Regis, now would be a good time for, you know…" Geralt said, not wanting to draw on her.

The master vampire focused his gaze, taking a step forward to draw her attention. He locked eyes and saw nothing but rage. He didn't have to say anything; his powerful will was enough to make her falter.

She hesitated long enough for Roche to deliver a mighty kick to her underbelly which caused her to break eye contact with Regis and stumble backwards. It was enough so he could get out from under her and scramble towards the other two men.

"What are you doing, Geralt? You're a witcher! Kill that thing!" Vernon said, keeping his eyes on the creature that was turning toward all three of them. "And what are you doing? Having a staring contest?"

She shook her head, and a terrible growl rolled toward them and Geralt felt it reverberate in his chest. He'd completely forgotten that Roche was asleep in the wagon and that Root didn't know he was there. He blamed himself for this whole debacle; he should've woken Vernon at first light before anyone else and got him on his way. But why she didn't seem to recognize him or Regis he didn't know. The werewolf circled them, with the three men standing with their backs to each other.

"I can't." Geralt said, watching every step of the werewolf for signs of her making a move. "That's Root. The woman from last night, she's a friend and…she's a…werewolf."

"What?!" Roche exclaimed but was cut off as she pounced.

"Scatter!" the Witcher said, and all three leapt to various sides as she landed where they'd been. "Run! She can't follow all of us!"

"I don't need to run." Regis said and again vanished into thin air, which made Roche mouth the words, "What the fuck…" while he and Geralt raced off into the woods.

Geralt counted on her pursuing Roche and when he saw her bound after him with a roar, he turned and knew he had one chance to try something, but was entirely unsure if it would work. But he had to get there fast because quick as Vernon was he was not going to outrun a werewolf.

Roche could sense her approaching; and felt the ground thundering beneath his boots as large paws stuck the earth each time. He knew she'd be on him in a moment. And then he heard the Witcher.

"Run her this way!" he said and Vernon turned toward the voice, feeling her claws swipe at him, entirely too close for comfort.

He saw Geralt standing in a clearing, his fingers splayed into the aard sign.

"Move now!" he cried, and then let fly the sign, striking Root full in the muzzle, which sent her flying backwards by magical force, landing her in a pile of thicket. The Witcher wasted no time and leapt forward, landing on her strong back and curled his fingers into a second sign.

She roared with fury and snapped at his fingers as he brought them in front of her eyes, making the sign of axii. Her body trembled as the magic forced its way through her rage filled mind, and Geralt wondered if it'd be enough. He held her tightly, his hand clutching her fur. But then she began to relax, the rage slowly going out of her eyes, and she dropped her head. He released his grip, and laid his hand on her. She was still and quiet, just as his horse would be when he had to use it on the old mare when she was spooked. The White Wolf sighed deeply and nodded to Roche, who was clutching his side.

Geralt crouched in front of Root.

"Come on. Change back. You're safe." He said quietly.

The werewolf gazed at him and Geralt saw the spark of recognition in her green eyes. He smiled. "Come on back."

Regis appeared next to Vernon who, for the moment, had stopped asking questions and winced because it hurt to breathe.

"She's cracked a few of your ribs and…yes, that's fresh blood, caught you at least once with her claws. Come with me, we'll get you fixed up. And no, not a staring contest. Had you not interrupted, we could've mitigated a few of these injuries." The surgeon said, motioning for Roche, who was utterly confused, to follow him.

Slowly the fur and fangs melted away in a shimmer of magic and Root collapsed into Geralt's arms. He held her until she blinked a few times, the magic of his axii sign fading in power.

"Where…what…where is he?" she asked, looking around.

"Don't concern yourself with him. He's a prick, but he's a prick who's a friend. As before, I'll explain. He means you no harm." Geralt said, searching to make sure the rage was gone. Satisfied, he slipped off his shirt and handed it to her, which made the woman realize that she was utterly naked. Happily the Witcher's shirt was long enough to cover her bottom and he walked with her back to the camp, explaining who Vernon Roche was and what had happened along the way.

"There you go. A few quick stitches and you're fine, although those ribs will hurt for some time…"

"I've had my share of broken ribs." Vernon snapped. "Just…oh never mind. Sorry. Thank you, my good man."

Vernon looked up as the two approached and he laid eyes on the woman walking beside the White Wolf. Her short brown hair and forest green eyes caught the morning sunlight as she stepped into the camp clearing with bare legs, wearing only Geralt's long, white cotton shirt. He was speechless.

"Yeah, she's pretty amazing." Regis said softly, his voice full of unmasked adoration.

Vernon looked over to the surgeon who'd stitched him up.

"And so what are you?" he asked. "People don't just vanish and reappear out of thin air."

Regis smiled mysteriously, with pursed lips, but did not reply.

"Fine." He said, wincing again.

"Regis is a friend; an old friend of mine. And this is Root, a new friend of ours. Root, this is Vernon Roche. He and I…well let's just say we've worked together." Geralt said, grabbing another shirt from his satchel.

"And I am hungry." Regis said, clapping his hands together. "Breakfast and tea are in order."

"I have an idea then." Roche said. "Vizima isn't far from here. Why don't you come with me? We'll meet up with the Stripes and escort you into the city. You can have a proper meal and a good bed. We should be able to make it there just after mid-day."

Geralt looked to Regis, who seemed to think it was a lovely idea. But Root was torn. That night the full moon would peak and she'd have to change. But she so wanted to see the city.

"I need to resupply a few things in town too." Geralt said, but noted Root's wavering. He then remembered the moon phase. "But…I'm afraid we'll have to leave come late afternoon. Still, I think we'll have time. Besides, I know Dandelion is in town."

The woman so wanted to meet this Dandelion, having heard so much about him from both Geralt and Regis, and brightened. She rose, stripped off the shirt, tossed it back to Geralt and dug into the wagon for more the bards' clothing that she'd been borrowing. Vernon stared at the smooth, curvy backside, confused by her innocent nakedness around three men, while Geralt shook his head and dressed himself. Regis simply adored her, but eventually rose and began to break camp.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The company traveled the short distance to Vernon's camp with Regis and Root sitting in the wagon rather than walking so they'd make better time. Upon meeting the Blue Stripes, they too broke camp with hardly a look or word to anyone but Geralt and they set off down the well-worn track leading to Vizima. As Roche had said, they reached the city gates before mid-day and the company rolled into town.

Vizima was the capital of Temeria and thus was a large, walled city that buzzed with chatter from dawn until dusk. As they rolled through the gates, Root was astounded by the enormity of the massive stone walls, the large buildings, towers bearing strategic crenallations, myriads of homes of all shapes and sizes, vendor stalls and the large number of people she saw going about their lives. Never before had she laid eyes on a human city this grand and it clearly showed on her face. She eagerly clung to the side of the wagon, admiring various people, their exotic clothing, and their manner of speaking. But few noticed the wild woman excitedly looking from one side of the wagon, then the other as they passed various places. Geralt turned and glanced back at Root, noting her excitement at all things new. It was sweet to see someone enjoy the city without the lenses of politics coloring their behavior. Root was completely innocent, and he made sure to remind himself to keep her in sight at all times. She'd be a mark in seconds for thieves or worse due to her obvious naïveté.

Roche and company halted at the entry point that led into the palace district and Geralt reigned in the old mare, with the wagon creaking to a halt.

"I must report in, White Wolf. But you know the place well; the New Narakort Inn is just down the way along with the marketplace. Anyone gives you shit about being a witcher, you bring it to my attention. We don't tolerate that kind of behavior." He said.

Regis of course had been to Vizima many times in his long years. And while he believed Roche meant it when he said there were laws about refusing goods and services to non-humans, he equally knew that many of the non-humans lived in a separate district of the city, in many ways a run-down ghetto rather than a proper part of Vizima. But he decided to keep his thoughts to himself for the moment.

"Thanks, Vernon. As I said, we cannot stay long so hopefully we'll pass through with no incident. Farewell." Geralt replied.

The Blue Stripes headed through the gate leading to the palace, while Geralt gave Roach a tap and rolled the cart toward the stables. A young man met them and upon meeting the Witcher's gaze, halted a moment, nearly dropping the bucket he was carrying.

"Oh, uh pardon me. C…c..can I help you?" he said, stammering a bit.

"Just looking for a few hours safe keeping for my horse and wagon. Do you have a locked stall I can rent?" Geralt asked, swinging down from the wagon seat.

Regis slid down from the back, followed by Root who continued to look around with wonder. The vampire made note to watch her and make sure she didn't get lost in the crowd. In some ways, although she might've been offended to hear as such, she was like a small child that needed supervision during such a trip into a large human city; center of a nation no less.

"Yes'sir. Right away." The stablehand replied.

Within minutes, Roach had been stalled, given fresh hay, and the wagon rolled into a locked area at the back of the stables.

"We'll be back around late afternoon I'd wager." He said and paid the agreed upon amount.

"So," Geralt said, turning to Regis and Root. "I have supplies to buy and thus need to visit the market district. Do you two want to come along there or is there something else you'd like to see first?"

"I want to see everything!" Root exclaimed.

Geralt smiled. "Vizima is a huge city so I'm afraid this visit will reveal very little. I can only imagine what you will think of the grand city of Oxenfurt should we ever go there. Or Novigrad. Oh, and of course Dandelion is here but he's with the royal court at the moment. I asked Vernon to have him inquire for us when he's free."

"I think the market will be a fine place to begin our exploration. There's food, clothing, jewelry, so many things to see. Shall we?" Regis said, offering his arm to Root.

The company made their way to the market. And while Geralt immediately noted the distasteful looks in his direction and whispered comments about mutants and freaks, Root didn't seem to notice the people staring at her, commenting or laughing about her obvious virgin visit to a large city.

"Do you see that hair? What, did she cut it herself with a dull kitchen knife?"

"Steer clear, she probably has lice."

"Ugh, is that a witcher? Freak."

Regis ignored them, remembering in an instant why he himself preferred to stay away from the large human cities. He found such shallowness to be sad, something to be pitied, not angry about.

Geralt turned to them. "OK I'm going to head off down here. Regis why don't you show her around and we'll meet up here in an hour."

The Witcher walked away and the vampire introduced Root to a whole variety of wares. From a dwarven smith making masterwork quality blades, dripping sweat beside his forge; a glass blower making exotic vases; painters, gnomish tinkers, street dancers, food vendors selling imported treats from far and wide, including live octopus and salmon, to which Regis had a laugh when Root looked at it with obvious disgust. And while she enjoyed them all as wonderful and appealing, with the exception of the octopus, she didn't ask for anything, for she knew she had no money. And it occurred to her just then that in that regard she was not contributing to the party's needs. They then visited a stall with a green and white stripped awning and a banner with the image of a howling wolf painted on it. When they stepped inside, Root was amazed by the elegantly carved wooden figures that were on display; the centerpiece of one table being what the shop must've been named for, a howling wolf.

"Oh Regis!" she said in awe of the craftsmanship. "Look how lovely these are."

"Good afternoon, mi'lady." Spoke the kind voice of the merchant. "Ah I see you are interested in my masterwork, one of my finest pieces yet, if I do say so myself. I am afraid this one is only for display. May I interest you in one of the smaller figures?"

A well-dressed gentleman approached, round and clearly well-fed, dressed in a fine silk brocade doublet covered by an apron. He had worn hands, a clear indication of his craft and a friendly demeanor.

"Oh I…thank you but…"

"Yes. Please show us, my good man." Regis said, politely nodding to Root for interrupting her.

After a while, the two left the vendor with a small parcel packed with brightly colored cloths and a crescent moon medallion hanging about Root's neck secured with a dark green velvet ribbon. They then stopped at a food vendor, and Regis purchased for them both a freshly baked roll dripping with brown sugar and frosting, the taste of which lit up Root's face like a bright lantern on a day of celebration. But as the afternoon wore on, Regis became aware that they would need to leave soon so that they'd be a reasonable distance from the city before moonrise. They met up with Geralt, who'd already delivered his purchases to the secure stall and they decided to take an early supper at the Narakort before heading out.

Upon entering the inn, Root was overwhelmed by the noise. She wondered how anyone could possibly carry on a conversation with all the chatter going on. And of course many pairs of eyes gave Geralt the once over, recognizing a witcher immediately by their unique eyes, and he in particular for his white hair. But he ignored it and secured for them a table in a relatively quiet part of the inn. The serving girl came over, an elven woman wearing an apron over a common gown with her golden hair piled up in a bun and ringlets hanging on her delicate shoulders. It was the first time Root had seen an elf outside of the forests and she greeted the woman in the language of the aen seidhe. But it did not have the effect she expected, for the woman scowled at her.

"What can I get you?" she asked somewhat coldly, turning her attention to the men.

Geralt was going to order just basic tavern plates for them, but Regis insisted on a fine meal of braised leg of lamb, mashed potatoes with gravy and summer vegetables for all; turkey sandwiches packed for travel along with a sampling of whatever fruits were currently available in the storeroom. All to be delivered to the stable. He paid for it all, absolutely refusing to hear any complaints from his friends.

"That was very generous of you, Regis." Geralt said, enjoying a cold beer. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure. We're going back out on the road and my goodness I wanted a decent meal. And it's our Root's first time in a major city so, I wanted her to have some of the best it has to offer." He said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips.

Root flushed red and tucked a stray bit of her hair behind her ear. But she was still curious about the elven woman's reaction.

"Why did that server seem upset when I greeted her in hen ilinge?" she asked them.

"Well, if I had to wager a guess I'd say she thought you were insulting her. I know, I know you didn't mean to so let me explain. In most places, Root, non-humans are treated as second-class citizens. And while in Vizima they don't allow open discrimination, which is why she's working here, many make it known that they'd rather not see or hear from those they consider low class. So elves and others have to shed much of their cultural identity in order to fit in. Which means, very often, abandoning their languages and speaking the common tongue. So when you addressed her in the ancient speech, you could do so without anyone passing judgment on you. For you, well, appear human. But if _she_ were to address anyone in that language, it would be seen as someone trying to elevate themselves higher than their station, a form of hubris. And because elves are currently seen as little more than washed up savages…"

"We get it, Regis. For fuck sake you go on. For all we know she doesn't even know the elven language. And, it was kind of wrong for you to assume she did simply by her appearance, Root. It's nothing. Don't worry about it. You meant no wrong. Don't make a larger deal of this than it is." Geralt said, finishing his beer.

"Well, I say." Regis said, trying his best to look offended. "In short, my dear, it's easier for me to live among humans than it is for elves, dwarves and others. Even though if the humans knew, and had a choice, they'd pick them for neighbors over me in a flash. But because they don't know, because they judge by appearance, they end up next door to someone they'd consider a monster."

Root considered their words.

"I can see value in using that fault of humans to one's advantage. After all it's what kept anyone from paying me any mind all these years. And yet, is such adding to the problem of judging by appearance? Should they not rather learn to accept and live alongside others, judging actions rather than looks?" she replied, musing the topic.

Both of them did not expect such a succinct pondering to come from a wild forest maiden who grew up in almost pure isolation. They knew she had no formal education, had never been to a major human city, and yet here she posed a question to them that one might hear at a lecture on ethics given at the great university.

"Well said, my dear lady." Regis said, impressed. "I too see value in it and use it myself. But I would disagree on it adding to the problem. After all…"

"They don't know." She finished for him. "Ahh, I see now. But if they did know, ah what a troubling query. Well, then what about you, Geralt? Why do people make remarks about you?"

The White Wolf really didn't care for conversations revolving around ethics, philosophy or anything else to do with right, wrong, or morals. He mainly cared about being left alone to do what he needed and not be bothered. And at that moment he was slightly concerned with the way his medallion was humming against his skin. Somewhere close by magic was afoot.

"I'm not human." He said with a shrug.

Root was taken by surprise and it occurred to him then that she didn't know how witchers came into existence. And the great hunter had to admit it was admirable that she didn't think anything was wrong with him. He just was.

"Look at my eyes, Root. You think that's normal?" he said, not liking conversations to be about him.

"You should see them when he has his potions. Oh dear." Regis said and glanced up as their food arrived.

The smell alone was so exotic that Root could hardly contain herself. They ate the sumptuous meal, forgoing conversation, for which Geralt was very grateful, and finished with baked apple cobbler and a round of tea for Regis and Root while Geralt continued drinking ale. With a glance out the window, the Witcher saw that the shadows were growing longer and they'd have to be on their way soon. But then the White Wolf saw a richly dressed man step into the inn, lute in hand, and about five women rush over to fawn over him.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"Ladies, ladies" he said in a lovely, musical voice. "Please, I have someone I'm meeting. Another time. Yes, I promise, Katalin, you know I always do."

"My good patrons!" spoke the head barman. "May I present the entertainer of the court and honored guest of his regal and royal majesty King Foltest of Temeria! The great Dandelion."

The bard swept his burgundy velvet cap from his head and bowed low before the politely applauding crowd. As he stood, he caught Geralt's eye in the far back corner seated with his old friend Regis and someone he didn't recognize.

"Good people! Such a welcome. Thank you, thank you." He replied, and straight away took the small stage and regaled them all with a song about their lordships'

victories in battle, the beauty of the city of Vizima, pride of the Temerian lilies, and the glory of their people being the finest in all the northern kingdoms.

Naturally most of it was all bullshit. But being a bard, Dandelion knew what people wanted to hear and was a matchless storyteller. Outside of the singing and poetry though, it was surprising how often he was at a loss for words and sometimes, as Regis and Geralt had both pointed out to Root, put his foot in his mouth. When the song had finished, and the encore piece, for Dandelion was the most popular bard in most cities, he finally made his way back to their table.

"Geralt! Regis! What an delightful surprise to find you both here." He said, taking a seat beside the Witcher and motioning for a carafe of wine to be brought over.

"Greetings, Dandelion." Regis said warmly. "It is good to see you. You were marvelous as always. A joy to listen to! Too few master the fine arts."

The bard gave his old friend Geralt a clap on the arm and toasted the Witcher's health when the wine had been served.

"Thanks, Dandelion. It's good to see you too. Please let me introduce our new friend here, Root. Root, meet the biggest mouth in all of Temeria, possibly the world. The largest flirt and the best damn bard anyone has heard in years." Geralt said, nudging his friend in the ribs.

"A pleasure, mi'lady." Dandelion said, taking her hand and kissing it while looking up at her. "My you have the loveliest green eyes. Like a forest clearing in a sylvan glade washed in sunlight. I am Dandelion, bard, poet, balladeer, entertainer for one and all. A delight to make your acquaintance."

Regis smiled, remembering a time when such words were his own daily vocabulary, centuries ago when he lived at a long dead and forgotten court. He enjoyed hearing it spoken though. And while he preferred the simpler and direct conversations among common folk, he did miss it at times. Mostly he missed the people he had been friends with then, all of whom had long since died; the immortal vampire outliving them all.

Root blushed and smiled. "Thank you. I've heard so much about you."

"All good I hope. And I can always show you the truth of the rest." He said with a wink that deepened the pink of her cheeks and caused her to shyly look over to Regis, who was admiring her sweet reactions to the master charmer.

"Same ole you." Geralt said. "Look, Dandelion, not to rush you but we have to leave shortly, and we were hoping you had time to travel with us. Regis and I both agree that we miss your company, and with Root here curious about your songs and story, we thought you might want to come along. Eventually we are going to end up in Oxenfurt, a place I know you like, but that will likely be in the spring. So yes, Mr. Pouty Face, you will have to spend the winter in the wilderness with us."

Dandelion did indeed appear to be distressed at the idea of spending so many months out on the road or in the wilds camping but he rallied his thoughts and brightened. Lifting a glass of wine and merrily replying.

"Never let it be said that Dandelion refused to accompany the great White Wolf when he asked. I shall inform the court. How long before you depart? I assume you're staying here at the inn in the meantime?" he replied, noting that Root had been glancing nervously out the window every now and then.

"I'm afraid not." Regis said, placing his hand over hers reassuringly. "We mean to depart within the hour, earlier if we can."

Geralt took his meaning and nodded assent to what Regis said.

"Within the hour!?" Dandelion replied, nearly sputtering the fine vintage he was enjoying. "I can't just up and leave on such short notice. I have a reputation to maintain, gentleman. I very much doubt his majesty will take kindly to such an abrupt departure. I simply cannot violate his good pleasure as such."

Geralt rose from the table and made ready to leave.

"I'm sorry, Dandelion, but it's imperative. Look, we'll just go down the main road, make camp and wait for you there. Can you make arrangements in that time?" the Witcher said.

"You're running from something." The bard asked, surprising the group. "What or who is it this time?"

"Shut it, bard. We're not running from anyone. We just need to be out of the city for a few days. We'll make camp and you can come find us when you've said your goodbyes." Geralt said as Regis helped Root into the heavy woolen long cloak he'd bought her, for winter was coming.

Dandelion sighed heavily but smiled. "Very well. I shall meet you soon. Until we meet again, my lady." He said, once again kissing Root's hand.

As they left the inn and headed for the stables, the sun had almost sunk below the horizon. It was far later than Geralt had realized and he noted the hurried pace of Root beside him. They retrieved their wagon and the deliveries that Regis had requested were loaded into it. Both he and Root got into the back while Roach was harnessed and the Witcher guided the wagon through the streets. When they exited the main gates, Geralt gave the old mare a tap and she trotted down the smoothly finished road that was largely devoid of travelers as evening began to fall.

"Geralt, we need to find a secluded space and soon. The sun is set." Regis said, noting that Root had grown very quiet and seemed withdrawn into her thoughts.

The Witcher turned off the road at the first chance he got and spurred Roach into a canter, as fast as they could go without the old mare or the wagon falling apart on them.

Up ahead, he spied a space in the wood with a large boulder that could serve as a blind on one side, with the wagon acting as a shield on another. He steered toward it and had reigned in Roach just as he felt the vibration of his medallion quiver on his neck. Root leapt down, stripped off her clothing and a moment later looked up as the full moon crested the horizon and her body shifted against her will, obeying the ancient rhythm of the lunar cycle that all werewolves were bound to. With a quiet whine, she looked up at her friends, who were both relieved to have made it to safety.

"Well, that was close." Regis said, and set about unloading their gear to make a quick camp for the night.

A few hours later, when their fire was burning and all had settled down for the evening, Geralt had a walk around the area while Regis stayed at the camp with Root.

"We're still fairly close to the city, but I think we're safe here. You don't have to hide under the wagon, Root." Regis said, smiling at her over his tin cup of hot tea.

She opened her jaws as if to speak and a strange mix of yowls came out, as if she were yawning and trying to talk at the same time. Root then smacked the ground with her paw, frustrated. Regis nodded, understanding perfectly.

"You could speak to your father when shifted, but you can't speak to us and communicate needs or wants. I understand how that would be monumentally frustrating, my dear. I could make you a tea to help you sleep if you like. Or you can simply look into my eyes. Whichever you prefer. And the next thing you know it'd be morning and all over." He said kindly, like the professional healer offering aid to a troubled patient that he was.

Root averted her gaze and scooted underneath the furs and blankets that she'd dragged down and buried herself in to hide her bulk and lupine form. Regis thought he'd said something upsetting and pondered this reaction. She knew what he was, what his abilities were, so he was entirely unsure why she would hide from him. Geralt returned, laid his weapons beside the wagon, and poured himself a cup of tea from the kettle.

"There are a few sentries out this way. But their sweeps stay pretty close to the city walls. I think we're fine for the night, but tomorrow we should head deeper into the forest, but close enough to the main road that Dandelion will find us easily. Ugh, this stuff is terrible, Regis. I should've got some coffee in town. Where's Root?" he asked.

Regis nodded toward the heap under the wagon. But when Geralt looked over to her, Root tucked her muzzle back under the blankets.

"What's that about?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I've no idea. I offered to have her sleep through the transformation and she's been hiding like that since." The vampire replied. "She also expressed frustration over not being able to talk with us."

The White Wolf looked at his friend for a moment, then over to Root who peered at him from under the blankets, her green eyes shining in the firelight.

"I see." He said, sipping the tea. "Well, that would be frustrating wouldn't it? Maybe that's a good idea, Root. I mean he is after all a healer, he would know if that would be a good, healthy thing for you. Why don't you come over here and see?"

Regis was utterly at a loss and stared at the Witcher like he'd gone completely bonkers. The look of confusion on his friends face made Geralt realize that the vampire truly had no idea what was going on. The werewolf seemed to scoot deeper into the pile.

"Has the full moon addled you, White Wolf? What are you on about?" Regis asked, feeling more and more like he'd upset Root.

Geralt leaned back on the large rock and rested his feet on a log.

"Do you recall when we we're traveling with Cahir and Milva, Dandelion too, and you explained to us the various powers and abilities of the higher vampires?" the Witcher asked, keeping an eye on the space where Root was resting.

"Certainly I do. I felt it good for you to know what we can and can't do, what we are and are not. It was a lovely conversation, I recall, even if you did complain about it being philosophical. So many misguided notions humans have about us. What does that…" Regis said.

"Can you tell me again?" Geralt asked, a sly grin so patently obvious on his face. "I think my witcher training may have gotten a bit soft on you higher ups. I need a refresher."

"Which part?" Regis asked.

"What kinds of powers do the higher vampires have over say, the minds of other beings?" Geralt asked.

Regis rarely got flustered but it was clear Geralt was getting at something. "But you know this already. Very well. Higher vampires, like myself, are nearly identical to human beings, most of us passing undetected by any and all, even master witchers such as yourself. We're mindful about being in places where a shadow would be noticeable since, well we don't have one, and mirrors will reveal or…not reveal us as it were, as well. But should someone pierce our masterful veil of near flawless interaction with human society, we can command their minds to obedience and make people sleep so deeply that surgery is possible without medications. Truly, there are few who can match us. And as you already know, it is the foolish witcher who takes a contract for one of us." He explained, without the slightest hint of boasting, for he spoke only the truth about his kind.

Geralt nodded. "Uh huh. Aaaand so what was the result among human society when a few learned of these abilities, or what they perceived as your abilities?"

Regis sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, all sorts of stories, myths, and superstitions sprang up around what we are. Much of it having to do with us being seducers of mortals. The young woman fainting into the arms of the ravishing vampire, enchanted by his….gaze…"

That was enough and the werewolf bolted from under the wagon and into the woods. Geralt knew she wouldn't go far and when she'd vanished into the brush he turned back to his friend who finally understood.

"Are you suggesting that…"

"You really haven't noticed?" Geralt said, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I confess I didn't realize it was because of that." He said.

"She loves you, Regis. Not because of that. I'm not getting at that. When you regressed her to break the curse, Root's skin was so flushed when you began speaking I thought she was going to have an orgasm. The reason she didn't is because you…well you know. She doesn't remember the other times you've done it, but she remembers that one because you let her, you were connected, you had to be to see through her eyes. Root may have grown up sheltered, but I'm sure she's read those same stories in myth books and legends. And let's face it; you're damn fine handsome, old friend. You are the very image of all her fantasies and…"

"Ok ok, no need to go on." He said, but smiled at his friend. "So she's aroused by my abilities. Well, certainly I knew that was a common fantasy but, no I didn't realize she felt that way."

"And to hide it." Geralt said cracking open a beer, having had quite enough of tea.

"Come again?" Regis asked.

"She's also turned on by your ability to hide it. You pass flawlessly for a human, Regis. She never knows when or if you're going to do something to her. And that's part of it. Part of the mystery. Come on surely you know this stuff? I know what women fantasize about when they think of witchers. Why do you think it's so damn easy for me to bed one if I'm feeling horny? I just turn on the charm and these golden eyes and hands do the rest." Geralt explained, with the look of a cunning charmer, who knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I think it's the hair actually." Regis said and the two shared a hearty laugh.

"Well, that and with a witcher it's all the pleasure and no risk. But seriously, Regis, you didn't know?" the Witcher asked.

"No. I mean, I know what human fantasies are, naturally. And of course I'm aware that some have these sorts of day dreams about my kind but, we don't think of ourselves that way. As I explained to you and the others, we mostly live like everyone else. So no, it didn't occur to me that my natural abilities were having that effect on her. I mean yes, I know how to seduce, as you do, but I…oh well this is interesting." Regis said, not quite sure what to make of the information.

"Well, go after her." Geralt said, motioning toward the direction she bolted.

"Are you sure? She seemed to want to be away from me." Regis replied.

Geralt couldn't believe that a four hundred year old higher vampire didn't seem to understand a basic fact about most women. That very often it was both yes and no equally.

"She both does and does not want you to pursue her. Your choice." The Witcher said.

Regis was utterly intrigued by this new revelation. Of course he knew Root cared for him, loved him even, for he read it in her thoughts whenever he'd touched her mind. But lurking behind those powerful emotions, eluding him until that moment, was indeed the strong, pulsing, erratic feeling of arousal at the memory of his voice and gaze. Regis rose and vanished into thin air before Geralt's eyes.

"She's going to kill me." He said with a smirk and grabbed another beer.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Root found herself a short distance from their camp and had watched as Regis disappeared without a trace. Which absolutely stunned her for that was something she did not know he could do. She ground her teeth in slight frustration toward the Witcher, although she knew he was only teasing her. But she knew she'd find a way to get back at him. Not in a hurtful way. She wasn't hurt by him revealing what he did. But in a playful manner that would equally have her grinning while watching his face.

Above her, standing on a high branch and leaning against the strong trunk, the vampire gazed down at the werewolf who was totally oblivious to his presence. At the moment he wished he could read her thoughts, for it was not his desire to frighten her or cause her any humiliation over what he now knew. No, he knew that she must approach him. And he knew just how to do it. With a flash, Regis transformed into his kinds' bestial form, a giant black bat, and swept into the air, allowing her to catch sight of him as he flew by and did a long circle, drifting toward an opening in the small glade. Root spotted the creature and noted that it was quite large, far larger than any normal bat of the woods. Curious, she followed it, watching the sky to see where it would land. And land it did, lighting upon another large boulder, many of which seemed to dot the rocky ground around them. The werewolf was fascinated by the enormous winged creature, its black furred body, membranous wings with a coating of tiny guard hairs, and the large hooks for claws. Never had she seen such a thing in the years living in the forest and she crept forward, wanting a closer a look. And then…there was Regis, sitting on the rock, his hands resting on his knees, smiling at her.

"Hello, my dear." He said. "You are not alone in being able to transform on the full moon. Although I quite understand yours is not by choice."

Root was amazed and wished so badly that she could talk with him about his transformation experience. For once in her life, she was slightly unhappy about her shifted form and stamped her paw again. Regis smiled, understanding, and slid down from the rock, brushing off his hands.

"It is lovely out tonight." He said softly. "The moon is truly a glorious body. How it rules the tides, and some say it even affects the water within living beings. Ah, but what compares to the matchless radiance of silver reflecting the sun? It makes the night so beautiful indeed. Shall we walk?"

The two walked together, mindful to keep their eyes open for sentries passing along the main road, which often wound through the wooded glen. Root thought he would come find her, tease her, and speak to her in that way that made her flutter. But the vampire did no such thing. He only talked of the moon and then explained to her how witchers came into existence and why Geralt was considered not truly human.

It was very late when the two returned to camp to find the Witcher adding another log to the fire, the night air steadily growing colder as autumn began to creep across the land. The werewolf gave Geralt a light swat on the back of his knees with her tail as she passed him. To which he only grinned at her and shook his head.

"I think we may have to invest in another horse and a larger wagon. A good, solid draft horse that can withstand the winter, and a wagon to carry wood. I don't think chopping it freshly every day is going to be something I look forward to." Geralt said. "Welcome back, Root."

Regis agreed and the two sat and spoke quietly about whether or not they should visit Vizima again in the morning to make the purchase, but both wondered if on the way they'd pass Dandelion and then have to make up time playing catch up.

"What do you think, Root? Would you…" Geralt began, but Regis motioned for him to be quiet.

The werewolf had fallen asleep and Regis answered Geralt's unspoken question with a silent, "No." And then to their amazement, her fur vanished, leaving only the bare skinned woman sleeping next to the vampire, who covered her with heavy blankets.

"Well…that's interesting." Regis whispered, looking to Geralt. "I wonder if she even knows that happens. Well, one more mystery to our friend here."

But Geralt sat and was lost in thought, gazing at her for a long time, running his hand over the stubble on his chin.

"Yes, well, I'm going to get some sleep if you don't mind." He said oddly and retired to his bedroll.

A few days later, the bard Dandelion had found their camp and the group was sitting together around the fire having breakfast. Regis had warmed up some of the delicious glazed rolls in their cast iron skillet, while Geralt complained about the tea.

"Well, I have excellent news, friends." Dandelion said, frosting dripping from his lip. "Oh but these are so good! I agree, Geralt, coffee would be much better. No offense, Regis, tea is all well and good but yeah…So! My news is this. His majesty has requested that the White Wolf and his honored friends remain at the palace in Vizima over the winter."

All three of them stopped and looked at the bard as if he had just told the worst joke ever known.

"What?" he asked, stuffing the remainder of the roll into his mouth.

"My dear Dandelion, care to share how good king Foltest knows of the White Wolf and his honored companions being in Vizima in the first place?" Regis asked.

"Everyone knows Geralt was there. No mistaking him, that's for sure. So naturally I told him of your desire to spend the winter in the wilderness and he graciously wouldn't hear of it and straight away invited you all to stay." The bard replied innocently.

Geralt grumbled. "You twit, more like you wanted a warm, comfortable bed and not a hard wagon floor or the ground to sleep on. What did you tell him?"

"I said that I was certain you wouldn't refuse his hospitality and that I'd fetch you straight away. He's setting a feast to welcome you. He remembers what you've done for the kingdom." Dandelion said and ducked as Geralt threw a pebble at him.

"You what?!" he barked. "Damn it, Dandelion! We can't go there!"

The bard was at a loss and looked between Regis and Geralt in utter confusion.

"Why not?! Foltest doesn't care that you're a witcher, and Regis passes for human and there's not an eye that wouldn't be delighted upon meeting Root. So what's the problem?" he asked.

"I am." Root said softly.

It pained Regis' heart to hear her say that but he remained silent. Dandelion was taken aback.

"What do you mean?" he asked, watching her get up.

But Root excused herself from their company, wrapped her woolen cloak about her and walked toward the edge of the woods. Geralt was practically seething and his gold eyes bored into the bard.

"Be calm, White Wolf." Regis said kindly. "Our good friend here meant well. And it was, is, indeed a generous offer."

"Dandelion does it ever occur to you to think beyond yourself before making promises on other peoples' behalf?" the Witcher growled. "Root is a werewolf. That means she is forced to shift on the full moon. We can't stay at the palace over the winter. She'd have no where to go where there wouldn't be eyes."

The bard's face fell and he glanced over to where Root stood out of earshot at the edge of the woods.

"Oh. That's why you had to leave in such a rush the other night." He said. "Well, why didn't you tell me then? Had I known I wouldn't have approached him on your behalf."

"You mean on your behalf you dimwit!" Geralt said angrily. "It wasn't for us to tell you. But now you've forced us to because of your ignorance."

Dandelion did feel bad. "I am sorry. Truly. I was just trying to help make weathering the winter easier for all. I didn't know. I'm sorry, Geralt. I'll tell his majesty some pressing matter called you away on urgent business."

The Witcher got up and ran his hands through his hair.

"No." said Root's soft voice. "That won't do. I won't have Geralt or Regis disgraced because of me."

Geralt stopped and turned to her, all of them did. But the Witcher felt his medallion vibrate so he focused on her while she spoke.

"But Root, what will you do?" Regis asked, rising to stand by her.

She looked at him silently.

"Then I'll come with you." He said.

"I shouldn't have come. I should've left after you freed me, Regis. I never should have burdened you both with this. I'm so sorry." She said sadly. "I'm sorry, Gwynbleidd. You are right. I am an ignorant forest spirit, who's lived in seclusion. I am not worthy of the grand palaces of kings." She said, trying desperately not to cry.

Geralt walked up to Root and searched her face, looking into her green eyes, his medallion vibrating more strongly.

"What are you?" he whispered.

Root was confused. "You know what I am. What do you mean?"

He stepped away from her, and placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled. "It's nothing. And you're not leaving. This is his fault, not yours. Dandelion, go back to the castle if that's what you want. Make your apologies to his lordship, he'll get over it. You've done enough."

The bard approached Root and bowed low, removed his feathered cap and knelt on bended knee.

"I am sorry, mi'lady, for causing you this distress. Pardon a humble bard, if you please. What a terrible first impression this has been. Forgive me." He said and rose, walking to his horse.

"Wait." Said Regis, his face brightening. "She can sleep through it."

Geralt considered his friends' words and then nodded slowly.

"If you can knock a werewolf unconscious they revert back to their human form. True. And given what we saw the other night, sleep seems to reverse the shift. Which you probably never even knew, Root, because well, you'd have been asleep."

"And if she's asleep when the full moon rises…" Regis said, looking to Root.

"I won't change?" she replied, somewhat doubtful. "And no, I didn't know that."

"Shift for us if you would, my dear. Let us try." Regis said.

Dandelion was aghast. "Geralt, you're going to hit her to test this?!"

"Shut it, bard, before I hit _you_." Geralt growled, silencing any further questioning with a searing glance.

Root let slip her woolen cloak and with a side look to Dandelion stripped off her clothes. The bard, for once, was speechless. In a blink she changed forms; and standing on her strong back legs she was almost as tall as Geralt.

"Well, one doesn't see that everyday." Dandelion said, taking a hesitant step back.

"Thank you. Now let us see if my thought and Geralt's is correct. I wager that sleep reverses your change, just as if you'd been knocked out by the blow of say a master witcher. And if so, I posit that were you to be asleep as the full moon rose, and slept through it, you wouldn't change at all. If you were to awaken, however, you most likely would. So we would need a way to ensure that wouldn't happen." Regis explained.

"How will you manage that?" the bard asked, not able to remain quiet even though Geralt's anger was like a hot branding iron by his side. "I mean I've heard of some powerful medications that can do that but…ohhhh…right. But how would you…"

Regis took a step toward Root and raised his hand to her muzzle. "Remember back, Dandelion, to the night you escaped from the camp where you and Geralt were being held. The guards were asleep at their posts. You were concerned they would wake up, yes?"

"I was." The bard replied. "But they didn't."

The vampire gazed into the werewolf's eyes, commanding her to sleep with his strong will. As Geralt had once pointed out, he had no need to actually say anything; no need for motions, words or other theatrics that the human stories often embellished tales of vampires with. He had only to gaze at her, catch her eyes, and his will would be done.

"Do you know why?" he asked, watching her fall under his sway, the canine head slowly falling.

"No, I suppose I don't." he said.

The fur and fangs melted away as quickly as they appeared. And the human Root stood before the vampire, her chin resting lightly on her chest, sleeping deeply and peacefully while he wrapped a cloak around her. He looked over to the bard and smiled in his way.

"Because I have to let you wake up."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

A few days later, Root would find herself escorted into an enormous bedroom that was large enough to be four houses for her. It was lavish, to say the least. With huge crystalline windows hung with heavy blue velvet and silk curtains bearing the white lilies of Temeria. The exquisite bed alone took up one whole mid-section of a wall and was draped with embroidered quilts, plush pillows and several additional throws tossed over the end. The four wooden pillars on the corners of the base boards were elegantly carved into fantastical creatures; a regal lion, a prancing stag with antlers entwined with ivy, a fox standing on two legs reaching up toward a bunch of grapes, and a curled dragon. And linking them were brass rods with heavy curtains that could be drawn around all sides for privacy, but they were folded back and secured at that time with dark blue cords. A round, plump woman bustled around her, making comments here and there about Root's clothing and appearance but the forest maiden barely paid her any mind as she wandered the room. She made her way over to the marble fireplace, which was cold but had wood set and ready within. And upon its mantle was a collection of fine books, figurines of men on horseback, jeweled goblets that were clearly treasures from some distant land and other small items. A large fur rug adorned the space before the fireplace and a high-backed chair of dark red leather sat near it with a small side table. She was simply stunned by everything around her.

"Are you listening?" barked the woman, standing there looking cross. "Follow me."

"Erm…" Root said, not at all sure what she should be saying or doing, and did so.

"Here is the washroom and wardrobe, complete with fitting area. The lady will be sure to be properly bathed, scented and dressed at all times while in this palace. I won't hear of you wearing…whatever that is in front of his majesty. Am I clear?" the woman said and Root nodded her head, fearful to refuse the woman dressed in a severe coif and veil.

"Good. The serving staff will be in here shortly and you're expected to dinner at sundown. Just listen for the bells, they'll alert you to make your way down. Leave your soiled garments in that trunk and we'll clean them for you." She said and rushed out of the room, leaving Root standing alone in the huge chamber by herself as the door closed.

Elsewhere, and later, the Witcher was grumbling to himself and waved away one of the men sent in to help him dress. He was still somewhat frustrated at Dandelion for putting them in the position they were. But as chance or fate would have it, a hard frost swept the land on their last night at camp, bringing the bite of winter earlier than he'd expected.

"But sir, that's not quite how that goes. It's a sash, over the right shoulder and…yes that's it, cross-wise. Let me adjust the buckle."

Geralt stood looking at himself in the dressing mirror while servants flitted around him like hummingbirds, pulling here and there, making sure the garments were perfect in every way; a black leather jerkin with brass military buttons over a freshly starched, crisp white cotton shirt, finished with a rich blue sash. He was glad they didn't make him wear the ridiculous ruffles some nobles favored because he was fairly sure he'd disgrace himself by tearing them off. But he was grateful for the hot bath and shave.

"Do remember the gentleman will address his grace properly at all times and no weapons are allowed in his presence." Said one of staff.

"I've been here before." The Witcher mumbled and had had quite enough. "Out! Enough. I'm not a child."

The servers bowed low and did as bid, the door closing behind them. None of them brave enough to argue with the famous witcher.

As Root sat in the enormous bathtub filled with scented oils and bubbles as high as her chin, the staff made sure to clean every inch of skin, sometimes a little roughly as they scrubbed her dirty fingernails and tsk'd about them being un-manicured, asking her several times about what she had been doing. They pampered her, primped, trimmed and brushed her for what seemed like hours until finally she was seated in front a large vanity in the washroom, dressed in a simple cotton robe while the hairdresser complained about her short, uneven locks before deciding to leave them smooth with a slight outward flip at the ends. There then came a knock at her door and she heard a familiar voice.

"I am the great Dandelion, madam. And I am no stranger to aiding a woman into and out of her clothing. You're all excused, I'll take it from here." He said as the women gasped at his bold statement and innuendo.

The bard walked into view and Root blinked, hardly believing her eyes, her jaw slightly agape. If Dandelion was well-dressed before, he was absolutely smashing in his long-sleeved indigo shirt with violet crushed velvet vest; wine colored beret with peacock feather, black pants, shiny, knee-high boots and soft black leather gloves that kissed the indigo lace at his wrists.

"That's the reaction I usually get." He said, bowing low. "I owe you an apology, mi'lady. My first impression on you was the worst I think I've ever given. I hope you'll pardon me and allow me the pleasure of helping you into your gown this evening."

Root smiled kindly. "How can I refuse such a request, master bard. If I survive this winter, you're forgiven."

Dandelion laughed heartily and straight away went to the wardrobe, beginning to look at the numerous dresses and accessories.

"Not your first choice living at court?" He said, turning his eyes to her. "Fret not, lady. It's not as intimidating as all that. And you have me to help you. I may not be much of an adventurer, warrior or healer but I do have quite the variety of social skills. Music is simply a passion of mine. But the study of human culture, matchless. Ahh here we are. Come here, let us try this." He said and motioned for her to stand on the short ottoman before the large three way mirror in the walk-in closet.

As the first bell began to sound, signaling for all to advance to the dining hall, Geralt and Regis found each other in the foyer just outside the seating area, at the base of the grand staircase that wound up to the left and to the right. The Witcher pulled on the stiff collar, annoyed. But Regis looked like he'd been born to wear the finer things in life. He wore a long-sleeved doublet of the deepest burgundy, secured with a single row of jeweled buttons, and soft ivory just showing beneath the cuffs and flared collar. Light doeskin pants and soft black boots finished his look, a mix of simplicity and finery.

"Good evening, White Wolf. My, don't you clean up well." Regis said giving his old friend a kind smile, knowing the Witcher hated being at court.

"I might still murder Dandelion. Still, I have to admit I'm grateful for the comfortable bed. I'm quite looking forward to that. Where the hell is he and Root?" he said, glancing into the main hall as the other guests began to file in.

When Regis didn't answer, the Witcher looked over to see his friend looking up at the top of the right hand staircase. There was Dandelion, looking fabulous and ever so much himself. But beside him was a woman transformed.

"Now, just like I showed you, slowly, one step at a time, never rushing." Said the bard, and he and Root descended the stairs. "Perfection."

The dark green velvet dress hugged every inch of Root's curvy body right down to her ankles; the cut modest, long sleeved, and finished with a dark brown sash-belt embroidered with green aspen leaves that ran down the left side. On her feet were soft brown slippers. And crowning her was a circlet nestled perfectly into her hair, with tiny golden antlers peering from the dark brown locks. Regis also noticed the necklace he'd bought her, which complemented the dress perfectly. They reached the base of the stairs and Dandelion held her hand.

"Gentleman, I present your, our, company for the evening."

The Witcher and the vampire both politely bowed at the waist, simply stunned by how very different she looked. Yet the way the bard had dressed her accentuated her wild spirit. And she surprised them both by performing a flawless deep curtsy, lowering her eyes and then bringing them up to meet theirs.

"Good evening, my lords." She said softly, and then flushed a little. "That sounds so silly, Dandelion."

The three shared a quiet laugh. "It's part of the grand play, Root. You'll get used to it. I'll help you." He said.

The second bell began to ring throughout the palace, signaling for the guests to take their seats. Emiel Regis stepped forward, the very vision of ancient, old world elegance and grace, and offered his arm to her.

"If I may escort the lady?" he said, his voice melodic and wonderful to hear after all the chatting of the servants.

Root slipped her arm into his, feeling at once that as long as he was with her, all would be well. Geralt looked to Dandelion and nodded his silent thanks and approval. To which Dandelion replied by offering his arm to the Witcher and Geralt grumbled and rolled his eyes.

"Get off." He mumbled and Dandelion chuckled quietly.

The Witcher and bard followed their friends into the main hall and took their seats just as the final bell rang.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

"His royal highness, lord and sovereign of Temeria, prince of Sodden, sovereign of Pontaria and protector of Brugge and Ellander, the grace of his household and pride of this great nation, King Foltest." Spoke the announcer.

His lordship entered with much fanfare, the whole court bowing in unison until he had seated himself at the head of the grand table. Then all rose and took their seats as the servers began pouring from the kitchens to begin the feast.

It was a long evening of several courses of the finest foods the world had to offer. And all through it Dandelion pointed out various important persons, who not to talk to, where they came from and more. It was a lot for Root to take in, but Regis was impressed by how well she listened and accepted the bards' instructions. She reminded him of a young and inexperienced lady-in-waiting training under a master tutor how to always know things and be one step ahead and informed to best serve her mistress or master.

When the meal was finished, all the guests dispersed to various areas of the large hall, enjoying wine and quiet conversation with others. She and Dandelion stood together while Regis and the Witcher both found other guests to speak to.

"Will I meet his grace this evening, master bard?" she asked him.

"Well spoken, Root. My you catch on quickly. You're quite the pupil." He said, beaming and adjusting her circlet that had fallen slightly askew. "But no. His majesty would prefer this evening to be much lighter, less pressure and more informal for the guests. He will receive each of them in another parlor tomorrow. And we'll attend that."

The woman gave him a surprised look. "This is less formal than usual?"

To which Dandelion chuckled. "Oh my, yes. This is practically a stroll in the park compared to some of the highly ritualized and more political gatherings. Unless the offense is fairly large, no one here is likely to lose face this evening; which makes it perfect for someone new to court to begin learning."

Root pondered the bard's words and admired him for the vast amount of knowledge he openly shared with her about worldly affairs. She saw value in it. But still there was the part of her that greatly mistrusted human society; a part that wanted nothing to do with it at all. But whether she wanted it or liked it, her path had led her to the heart of Vizima.

"And, Root, do try to mask your reactions more." He said softly.

"Why?" she asked. "Is something wrong with my reactions?"

"No, no not all. However, there are those who will read your reactions and use them. Feel your reactions, just don't show them. Not until the time is right." He explained.

"Ahh, like showing fear to an enemy will embolden them, yes?" she asked, finishing her glass of wine.

Dandelion nodded, smiling with approval. "Exactly. Reactions and displays of emotion are like the scent of blood in places like this. You want people to see what you want them to see. Sometimes that's the real you, sometimes not. It depends."

"Like for instance, glance over my shoulder and see the man standing in the far corner, alone and withdrawn. Don't stare, just casually cast your eyes around, letting them drift over him like you don't see. Very good. Now, that's a person who's trying to be seen by purposefully and obviously trying to remain unseen; surrounding himself with a false air of mystery and, shall we say, spookiness; when really he's here at the leisure of his liege, a wealthy land owner invited to court because he's about to inherit from a recently deceased relative. In short, the man is his lord's valet and not really anyone of political importance. But he's putting on this air of dark broodishness to impress people." The bard explained quietly.

"Are you saying, Master Dandelion, that the best place to hide is in plain sight?" she asked.

He leaned forward as if in conspiracy, but smiled, impressed. "My dear lady, speak like that any more and one would swear you're an assassin. Yes. Exactly."

Off in another room, Root could hear stringed instruments and the loveliest music filling the air. She wandered over, the bard ever by her side. The ballroom was lined with floor to ceiling windows of the finest crystal, golden wall sconces blazing with light between each one, and a massive chandelier hanging above, casting light like cascading diamonds onto the marble floor. Regis, seeing her wander, politely excused himself from a conversation with an alchemist and the master of herbology from Oxenfurt university.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" Dandelion asked. "Would you do me the pleasure?"

The bard bowed and she politely curtsied, taking his hand.

"I can't dance." She said softly, seeing the others gliding around her with ease.

"One more thing to learn. And…one, two, three, turn…"

Regis leaned in the doorway, watching her follow the kind bard as he helped her learn the very basic steps to ballroom dancing. He really was trying to make it up to her for putting her in this situation. But like everything Dandelion did, he did it with a style all his own. As he gently spun her in a circle, she caught Regis' gaze and spoke softly to Dandelion, who looked his way. He bowed and found conversation with another nearby. The vampire walked to her slowly, staring right into her green eyes, holding her spellbound until he gently kissed her forehead. Her breath caught and he could see her skin flush ever slightly.

"You look amazing, my dear." He said softly, his nose barely touching hers.

She looked up into his gorgeous face and sweetly touched the tip of her nose to his. Regis raised her hand, kissed it, and wrapped his other arm about her waist, drawing her close. He then led her in a slow circle of the ballroom. The Witcher stood off to the side, somewhat less grumpy and happy to finally have a good mug of dark beer rather than the wine that was served at dinner. He watched as his old friend and Root then mingled with the other guests, the forest maiden making polite nods and quiet, practiced conversation with them all. And Geralt had to admit, one wouldn't guess this was her first dance or appearance at court. And he knew he had Dandelion to thank for that.

"Hugging the corner as usual, Wolf." Spoke the gruff voice of Vernon Roche as he walked up and leaned against the same wall the Witcher was.

"Roche." Geralt acknowledged. "What, no guard duty tonight?"

"Your cheerful." He said. "When I heard you were staying here the winter I figured that wasn't your doing. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Geralt grunted. "Fucking Dandelion and his mouth."

Vernon rolled his eyes. "Figures. So, Geralt, straight talk. No bullshit. Who is this

woman?"

The Witcher shrugged. "Just someone I met on my travels. She and Regis hit it off so I can't exactly say no to her being around."

"Don't fuck with me, Geralt. I saw your kindness to her so cut the crap with her being just Regis' girlfriend. I said no bullshit." Vernon said with a quiet but annoyed tone.

The Witcher turned to the Commander.

"What do you know?" he asked, reading Roche's meaning clearly in his features.

"There's a man here, a wizard I believe, who's watched her since the moment she entered the main hall. Why would a wizard be watching her, Geralt?" Roche asked, keeping his voice low.

For one dread moment the image of Falithe aen Caem sprang to mind. But that was impossible, the Witcher having made sure to dispose of the corpse to prevent any raising of it or regeneration.

"I don't know. I swear that's the truth, Roche, I don't know. But that wouldn't be the first mage interested in her." He said, and told him about Falithe and the whole story of how he and Regis had met Root.

Vernon listened intently and nodded.

"Don't say anything to her or around her about this. Stress can cause unwanted shifts. Can you have this person shadowed?" Geralt asked.

"Already being done, friend. He won't get within fifty paces of her. I promise." Roche said and left.

The Witcher grumbled and didn't know if he should blame Dandelion for this new bit of information, or thank him for saving them the trouble of possibly encountering this person on the road when Root was more likely to be alone.

As the night wore on, and guests began to vacate the hall for their rooms, Dandelion approached a very worn out Root sitting on a marble bench, rubbing her feet. Regis had politely gone to inquire after a friend so the bard returned and offered his arm.

"Shall I escort you to your room?" he asked kindly.

"Not this time, bard. You all have had her all night." The Witcher said, and entwined Root's arm in his. But of course that wasn't his only reason for being her escort.

"Very well. Good night, Root. You did extremely well tonight." He said and kissed her hand before departing.

The White Wolf walked with her across the ballroom, mindful of her slow pace and sore feet, his keen eyes calmly scanning the area at all times. But he saw no one in particular looking at her.

"So, how are you doing, Root? I know this is a lot for you to experience in an evening. But you couldn't fool me into thinking this was your first ball." He said, looking over to her.

"It's all very strange." She said softly. "So many rules. I'm glad few people spoke to me. I was terrified of embarrassing you all. But Dandelion is a great help. He really is a good friend. I can see why you like him, even if you were furious the other day."

The Witcher smiled as they approached the grand staircase and began the ascent. He'd have picked her up and carried her, but that would've made poor Dandelion faint away with social horror so he decided against it. Even as another part of him would laugh to see such a thing.

"Thank you, Root." He said, turning at the top and walking down the long corridor lined with blue carpet and white marble prancing lions, the moonlight shining in through the long windows.

She looked over, and was again struck by how handsome the hunter was. His golden eyes shimmered and she noticed his white hair had fallen from the pony tail and rested on his shoulders.

"For what?" she asked.

"Regis was very happy tonight. And that makes me happy to see it. And you've also saved Dandelion's ass from my boot by letting him help you. He's right, you did very well. You've brought my two dearest friends and I together in a deeper way, and I thank you for that." Geralt said, stopping at her door. He leaned forward and kissed her softly where her hair met her brow. "Good night, Root."

As he turned to leave, Root held his hand just a moment longer so he paused and looked back.

"Geralt…" she began quietly.

The Witcher waited patiently. And then he felt a very curious sensation in the palm of his hand, the hand that was holding hers. And his medallion began to vibrate.

"Nothing." She said and smiled. "Good night, Gwynbleidd."

He nodded politely, gave her short bow and turned.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 (NOTE: Very Mature, Adult Sexual Content with Root and Regis. If that's not your thing, you could skip this and not miss much.)

Root watched him walk away and then opened her door, stepping inside the enormous chamber. The servants had already lit the fireplace so the room was beautifully warm and the bedding had been turned down as well, the heavy curtains closed on three sides. On the nightstand was a glass of wine, a platter of fruit and a sprig of lavender. Curious, Root picked up the flower, remembering a dream. And then she felt something brush her cheek, like the faintest bit of a breeze and turned, wondering if there was a draft. She went to the window and looked out upon a large courtyard filled with tall aspen trees glittering in the light of the waning moon. At its center was a magnificent fountain that had already been emptied in preparation for winter. But the regal lion still shone white and lovely, almost life-like.

And then she swore she heard her name and turned, looking about the large bed chamber, but saw no one. Returning to the lavish bed, she sat on the edge and slipped off the soft shoes she'd been wearing, rubbing her feet. Again she felt something, this time on the back of her neck, like a cool whisper of breath, and she reached back, thinking perhaps a stray hair had fallen and brushed her skin.

"Caelm, beag beanna." Root heard a soft voice whisper to her in elvish, one she swore was Regis'. "Dearme."

She understood the elven words perfectly, and felt her stomach flutter. But still she saw no one in the room. Regis, invisible, was very near when she rose from the bed and passed next to him without sensing his presence. He followed her, and she stopped in the middle of the room, wondering if she'd perhaps imagined the voice.

"Tired I suppose." She said, turning back to the bed just as the vampire let slip his mask of invisibility.

Root was slightly startled, but of course recognized him and put a hand to her chest, relieved. He walked toward her.

"Yes. Yes, you are tired, my dear." He said softly, meeting her eyes.

Her stomach immediately seized in a pleasurable knot upon hearing him speak that way. Regis smiled at her, letting her see just the very tips of his fangs, and he saw her pupils contract, heard her breath catch. He stood before her, gazing down slightly as he was a bit taller than she, and allowed the softest purr of a growl to escape him. Causing a visible shudder throughout her body.

"What shall I say to calm you, little woman?" he whispered, translating the elvish she heard before. "Shall I bid you to dream?"

He held her in his gaze, and she was paralyzed by his glamour, yet he allowed her just enough awareness in her mind so she knew what was happening. He circled behind, brushing the nape of her neck with his lips, leaving soft, tender kisses, which caused a sigh to escape. He then ran his fingers along the velvet ribbon that she wore, the moon pendant he'd given to her, circling her throat. Regis could hear her heart racing; sense the blood coursing through her veins. He untied the sash about her waist, and then slowly unzipped the gown, tracing her spine with his fingers, allowing the fabrics to fall at her feet.

"You are helpless before me, my lady." He purred, slipping his hands around her waist from behind, softly caressing her hips.

Root couldn't move, and all she could think about was his voice and how her body seemed to be engulfed with warmth. Regis read her thoughts and smiled, gaining consent from her without having to ask.

He slowly let his soft hands slide over her, stroking the space where the hips tilted toward the pelvis, then up her tummy, seeing the flesh of her skin tighten from his whisper touch, until finally he stroked the rounded underside of her generous breasts, leaning her against his strong body. He then let one hand drift back down to her mound, holding her firmly, all the while reading her thoughts from the connection he had with her. Nothing in her actions or thoughts refused him, so he slipped his finger between her folds and rubbed the inner wall gently but firmly.

"You must obey, Root. You have no will to resist me." He whispered in her ear, letting one of his fangs brush her, the vampire knowing what she wanted to hear; the stuff of fantasy. "You're going to give me what I want."

She could barely speak but whispered a yes, breathless and trembling. He continued to massage her inner walls with the fore and middle fingers; avoiding the very sensitive button that he knew was aching to be touched. Ever so slowly he circled her opening, teasing with a finger, feeling her flush with blood.

"Does my voice please you so? Does the memory of my eyes cause you to shiver at night?" he said right into her ear, reading her thoughts as her private world unfolded before him. "Oh yes, I see that they do."

He circled her clit and felt her grow weak, her legs trembling. The vampire then eased two fingers inside her warmth, keeping her still as she shuddered. She couldn't help but groan, her eyes slipping back into her head. The vampire felt her mind melting into a haze of ecstasy, her softness throbbing under his palm. He slipped his thumb over her engorged clit and held her tightly to his chest as her knees nearly buckled. Pressing deeper, he curled his fingers and massaged the ridged nub within which made her moan loudly, her arms hanging limply at her sides, resting against him.

After a time, he withdrew his slick fingers, circled her clit again, and then slipped them from her labia, trailing his hand up the center of body, leaving a wet trail of her scent. He then walked back around to her front.

"Is this what you desire, Root?" he whispered, gazing into her eyes. "You want to hear me whisper those words to you don't you. Come then, come to bed, my dear Root. Come to me."

Regis slowly walked backwards toward the bed, motioning for her to follow, which she did, enchanted by his will. To her, it was like she could dimly see through her eyes, but do nothing about her actions. He sat her down on the edge of the bed and stood between her spread legs, holding her chin. With his other hand, he ran his fingers over her eyelids, gently brushing them.

"Your eyelids are so very heavy aren't they? You want to sleep for me. Shall I make you dream?" He said feeling her tremble. "I will. But not yet."

Regis let her sit on the edge of the bed, watching as he undressed, slowly revealing his immaculate, immortal body as if it hadn't aged a day past his prime. Lean, lithe, lightly muscled and pale, Regis could've been made of flawless marble, for unlike the Witcher, he had not a single scar, blemish or imperfection on him. In her mind, Root was dazzled by him, yet all she could do was stare. He climbed on her, easing her back onto the pillows and rested his hips against hers, teasing. Deep within, she was pleading with him and he could sense it, but she could say nothing. He kissed the space between her breasts, watching them tighten and her skin flush, her breathing becoming heavy and erratic.

"Is this what you want to hear? Look into my eyes." He commanded her, drawing her gaze to his with his voice as he looked up.

The forest maiden fell into his dark eyes, giving herself entirely to his will. Regis felt her surrender and he pressed deeply into her mind, beholding such a powerful love and desire for him that it made him swell with a love and lust for a woman he hadn't felt in centuries.

"Oh, my Root." He whispered and impressed upon her subconscious mind a spell so powerful that no other could ever enchant her. It was like a mental chain, binding her will to his and she surrendered her whole body, mind and soul to his wishes willingly. Any other being who attempted to enthrall her would be lashed with a powerful spell of protection, risking their own sanity if they continued past the initial shock.

Regis finally relented, turned his hips and sheathed himself in soft pink folds, allowing her to cry out in utter pleasure as he made passionate, beautiful love to her. Root's hands worshiped the body of her lover, nay her lord, her immortal lord to whom she gave herself completely. He raised one of her legs and rested it on his shoulder to thrust more powerfully and deeply, causing Root to groan loudly and call out his full name, which in turn made him sigh to hear it roll off her tongue so musically and perfectly. He lowered her leg, and she spread them wide. Regis could feel her tighten around him, her back began arching and her hands clutched the blankets into fists. He leaned close, placing one hand on either side of her head. Her mouth found his, and he knew he'd endure anything to feel that on him again and again. The vampire kissed her, mindful of his teeth, and then spoke.

"Come for me, Root." He commanded and her body obeyed with a long cry of pleasure.

Root convulsed as the world slipped away into a blaze of ten million stars, her body shattering into shards of utter joy, almost singing as she seemed to float on the very superstrings of the multiverse itself. It was as if all that existed in time was she and the man she loved; as if two worlds had collided in their very own Conjunction of the Spheres, joining Root and Emiel Regis together into one. Regis remained connected to her mind as she came, and in that way he too experienced the same climax along with his own. He also felt her mind go completely blank save for his image. The vampire knew she'd reached a very deep state of connection to his will such that at this level of trance, she thought of herself and him as one entity.

Slowly the world came back into view and he lay beside her, having covered them both with the blankets as she curled into his chest. She looked up with heavy lids and he smiled at her, veiling his teeth once again. She was deep under his power but he still allowed her that small sliver of consciousness in order to hear and enjoy his words to her.

"Time to sleep, my Root. Look here, into my eyes, and fall into them again. Like slipping into a warm pool at night. See you in the morning, my love." He whispered.

She smiled faintly before falling deeply asleep, remembering those exact words he'd spoken to her before.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

It was still dark as Root opened her eyes, seeing nothing but the heavy curtains surround all sides of the bed. With a smile she remembered Regis coming to her, remembered how he'd enthralled her but left enough of her mind aware so that she could enjoy it somewhat consciously. She decided she wasn't sure if she should thank Geralt for spilling her secret, or still try to playfully get back at him.

"Perhaps both." She whispered.

The woman also knew she was now bound to the vampire, and that there was nothing she could ever refuse him. It was such a profound connection, and quite unexpected. An erotic encounter had blossomed into a union for which there were no words to describe it. And while Root enjoyed her fanciful thoughts about the vampire's powers, she knew that it was not for them that she loved him. And she wanted him to know that, and thus resolved then to speak to him in the morning. But then the moments of the last few hours came back to her mind, and the forest maiden let a hand drift to her flower and pleasured herself, thinking of his matchless perfection.

While in his own room, Regis had sensed her awaken and smiled as he connected to her thoughts, something he could do now that he'd bound her will to his.

"I already know, you sweet woman." He whispered, finding it adorable that she didn't yet understand how much he knew of her thoughts. And the vampire thought it best that he allow her to remain some what ignorant of how much he knew so that she'd interact with him naturally and freely rather than feeling constrained or worse, that she never had need to speak at all.

There was only one thing more profound than the current bond he shared with her, but the vampire was unsure if she'd want to commit to the ritual. He would wait to explore that with her another time. After she climaxed, Regis returned to his reading as Root drifted back to sleep on her own.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 (Very mature, adult sexual content. If that's not your thing, you could pick up on things later without reading this.)

As the sun rose, its golden rays glistened on the first snowfall of the season that blanketed the grand city of Vizima. The marketplace stirred as vendors prepared their wares for the day, carts trundled along the dirt and cobble roads, and the guard was changing. And as Geralt looked out of his window, he was grateful to be wintering in the castle. It was also bitter cold, much colder than early winter should be, and he wondered if some magic was afoot in the world. He stood next to the fireplace wearing just a loose fitting pair of pants and heard his chamber door open. Figuring it was one of the servants come to bring him breakfast, he turned and was surprised to see Root standing there wrapped in a dark green satin robe, with bare feet.

"Oh, good morning, Root." He said pleasantly as she walked over.

Geralt looked down at the woman as she stood gazing up into his golden eyes with a look he recognized. Root reached up and ran her fingers through his white hair, made so by the trials he'd endured during training. He wanted to stop her, thinking of his friend, but for some reason, he couldn't.

"Esseath elaine, Gwynbleidd." she whispered in the ancient tongue. "A'beath me?"

The Witcher smiled and knew Root had indeed been taken by his looks; he'd seen her watching him many times and appreciated the compliment. But as to her other request, he wasn't sure he should grant it.

"Root, I…" he began but she spoke again.

"Please, Geralt?" she said, her green eyes burning into his and he couldn't hold back any longer.

The Witcher wrapped his hands around her soft neck and drew her to his mouth, finding it and consuming her as he'd been wanting to since laying eyes on her. And she returned it, her hands running over his scars, wanting to know every inch of his glorious, deadly body. The more he kissed her, the more his hands too wandered, opening her robe, exposing her naked body and gliding his hands up her back and over her bottom. He then felt himself moving forward as if being drawn, with Root leading him to his bed, still kissing him. He felt his medallion vibrate strongly.

"Root…Root, stop…" he said between kisses. "What are you doing?"

But the forest maiden paid him no mind, only drew him deeper into her mouth as if trying to consume him. Geralt's medallion was practically singing, howling for him to pay attention. He opened his eyes, and he saw only the lovely Root staring at him, but her wild beauty had some how been amplified and he felt energy being pulled from his body. And then he was falling and landed on his bed, having some how been turned around, with the woman climbing over his legs, a hungry and longing look in her absinthe colored eyes.

"Root, something is wrong…stop…" he said but then moaned as she went down on him, taking the whole of his hard length.

He gripped her short hair in his strong hand as she sucked. Feeling his thick shaft gliding into her mouth felt so very good that he could do nothing but say her name softly. Geralt felt the plush head stroke the back of her throat, felt her tongue licking his engorged balls and her fingers beginning to explore his opening. Only one other time had the Witcher felt so helpless, but in that moment he could only think of the wild woman who was taking him for herself. A part of him didn't care, and another part of him was screaming. After what seemed like an eternity of pleasure, the Witcher could feel himself growing weak, as if every pore of his body was leaking vital life force. Root then climbed up onto his waist and when Geralt opened his eyes he was stunned by how beautiful she was, supernaturally beautiful to the point where she was literally glowing.

"Root, please…" he said, not recognizing his voice. "Stop…you're…"

His medallion vibrated strongly and out of the corner of his eye, he spied his blades hanging by the bedside. Geralt had to think about what they were for, for he'd begun to forget.

"Root, no." he said firmly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

She raised herself above his throbbing shaft, ready to plunge herself down, and she gazed at him, hunger consuming her eyes as they bore into the Witchers own. She was the visage of hideous and godlike beauty at the same time.

"ROOT, NO!" he cried and bolted upright in his bed.

Alone. With the sun just beginning to paint the horizon in shades of purple.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"Dandelion, I don't think I can do this. I'm so nervous." Root said, fidgeting with the cuff of the fur trimmed gloves she was wearing.

Later that afternoon, the bard stood with her outside of the parlor where both Geralt and Regis had already been invited in to discuss matters privately with the sovereign of Temeria, King Foltest. Outside the door, Dandelion adjusted the silver circlet on her head and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"You'll do just fine, Root. My goodness, you were the belle of the ball last night. Everyone is talking about you." He said quietly and proudly.

The woman seemed to turn a shade paler, but a look from Dandelion and she immediately composed her features. But her skin still felt tingly, and her face warm.

"Well done." He said with a nod. "See? You're learning. I'll be right next to you and both Geralt and Regis are in there."

The large gilded doors to the parlor opened and Dandelion offered his arm to her as they were announced. Root took a breath and laced her arm in his.

"The Lady Root escorted by Master Dandelion." Spoke the announcer.

The bard turned his gaze forward and walked with a calm grace before the eyes of those assembled in the parlor on either side of the aisle. And they in turn all looked to them, with several whispers of astonishment that made the bard smile. He'd chosen for her outfit a gown of pure white in honor of the first snow and her first time at court, accented by a modest white fur capelet covering her sun-kissed shoulders and elbow length white gloves. The only color on her skin was a swatch of dark green, Regis' gift, visible on her collarbone.

The room was lavishly decorated with heavy curtains flowing from the large crystalline windows on either side of the room, with armored and armed guards standing in silent vigilance between each one. A floor of almost mirror-like marble echoed the sound of the bards' boots but Root's slippers made nary a noise. Everything seemed to be made of gold, silver, gems or polished stone. It impressed her but she found herself missing the feel and scent of the rustic woods. Root, as per Dandelion's instructions, kept her gaze forward and did not allow herself to look too far in any direction. She did notice a second level above them when she glanced up, but saw no one gathered there. As they neared the throne, she noticed it was flanked by twin lions, their heads turned inward, serving as armrests for the man seated upon it.

Regis lightly connected to her thoughts, monitoring her stress level. And beside him, if the Witcher was nervous, he didn't show it. Dandelion and Root stood before King Foltest. He was an attractive man with sharp, noble features dressed in heavy, richly embroidered garments, and a crown of gold. Never before had Root seen someone so regal in such a worldly manner. And it frightened her in a way she couldn't explain and she felt her hands tremble, and her heart race.

"My lord, I present to you Root." Dandelion said and nodded to her to begin her curtsy and rehearsed greeting.

But Root was like a cornered fox, frozen, staring at the hounds, and it seemed like an eternity of silence. She could feel people watching her, expecting her to be something she was not. She wanted to run free, run…run…Her eyes widened and she looked at the Witcher.

"Oh no…" she whispered.

Regis sent the silent command and shut down her body and mind at once. Root collapsed and knew nothing more.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Later, the Witcher was fuming with anger as he, Regis and Dandelion spent the day in Root's room as she slept. The vampire not daring to wake her until he was certain there'd be no risk of a shift. Regis, being known as a healer, had come to her side right after putting her to sleep, with everyone else thinking she'd fainted. And made apologies to the king, saying that she'd been feeling unwell that morning, taking the blame for not having arranged for a different meeting day. Poor Dandelion had been absolutely mortified, even as he was deeply concerned for her. And it took all of Geralt's will to not send the bard flying through the stained glass window behind the throne. All in all Foltest was understanding and gracious, but of course he didn't know that a werewolf had almost made an appearance at court, one that most likely would've been killed by the crossbowmen who were hidden on the upper balcony. The Witcher paced the room again for the hundredth time while Regis sat in the high-backed chair reading a book.

"Geralt, I know you're angry." Regis said quietly. "But I cannot have you this agitated when I wake her. Your emotional state will only amplify hers. Please, old friend, try to be calm."

"She did so well last night." Dandelion said, busying himself with putting away accessories. "I wonder what happened?"

The White Wolf couldn't hold it in any longer. He wheeled on the bard and let loose.

"What happened is that she doesn't belong here! She's been in the woods, living in the wild for almost forty years, Dandelion! You can't just ask her to set that aside in one evening of practiced lines, bows and curtsies! Ugh, I should…I…why did I listen to you!? Why did I bring her here!? Do you even realize she could've died in there? They would've killed her, Dandelion! No questions asked, no explaining. She'd be dead and it'd be your fault! Do you understand that?! And we'd be responsible for bringing her there; we'd most likely all be sentenced to death."

"Geralt." Regis spoke softly but in such a manner that it stopped the Witcher cold. "As before, please calm yourself. Master Dandelion, if you'd be so good as to bring me a kettle of water and tea from the kitchen. And also bring some food; bread, cheese and fruit if they have it. Prepare it, and bring it yourself please, not one of the staff."

Dandelion stood gaping at the Witcher, unable to respond, overwhelmed at having made his good friend so incredibly angry. But he nodded his head at Regis' request and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. The vampire glanced at his friend, rose and walked to Root.

"I figured you could use a few moments without him around. And she will need to eat soon." Regis said standing near the bed, pulling the covers up and replacing her arm beneath them.

"How can you speak so nicely to him?" Geralt grumbled, reigning in his anger, running his hands through his white hair.

"Because it isn't his fault. Ah, ah before you explode on me let me finish. You're too hard on him, Geralt. This is Dandelion's world, the very water he lives in, and the air he breathes. I know it well, for I used to travel in circles such as these once long ago. For him, this is as easy as tying a shoelace, as practiced as getting dressed in the morning. It's easy to forget others don't understand. Would you ask him to be anything or anyone other than who he is? And I would remind you that she agreed to come. No one forced her. Root wanted to see the city and she placed her trust in us to keep her safe. And we did. We all knew this was a risk and we all agreed to it. It's not your fault this happened, and it's not Dandelion's or mine, nor Root's. However, whoever gave her the circlet and gloves she was wearing needs to be found." Regis explained quietly, motioning him over.

Regis gently lifted her eyelid as Geralt came to the bedside. The pupil was huge, making her eye appear to be almost black with only the smallest ring of pine green around the outside. The Witcher recognized the effect right away, having seen that same look in elven eyes ringed with gold. He let it close and lightly touched her forehead, checking her temperature.

"That's belladonna poisoning." Regis said, the master herbalist recognizing the pharmacological mark of the plant. "She may have been nervous but Dandelion is right, she was the model of elegance last night. This is what caused her elevated heart rate and erratic breathing. Look. They're safe to handle now, her body absorbed the salve and the rest is too little to be effective."

The vampire handed Geralt the circlet and gloves and the Witcher ran his fingers over the material, scenting it right away, even though it was faint after several hours.

"Someone knew we weren't in the room with her when she was getting dressed. The one's who would notice the distinct odor freshly applied. I'm supposing our Root here has never worked with such a toxic plant as belladonna or she'd have noticed it herself." Regis said quietly.

The Witcher sighed heavily and leaned against one of the massive carved bed posts.

"But why? What would be the reason? And how? Vernon said he was having the mage followed." Geralt said, frustrated by the shadowy nature of the enemy. "How could he get so close to her? If he's responsible for this that is."

Regis glanced at the door as Dandelion returned with the tray of asked for items.

"Vernon Roche is a sharper man than I first took him for. I'm impressed he noticed the man watching our Root. I'm going to suppose this wizard, or whatever he is, is the supplier of the poison, but not the deliverer. As for the reason, possibly to expose her; this was not a lethal dose, but enough to cause significant changes to her breathing and pulse, essentially mimicking stress. If they didn't kill her she'd have been evicted from the castle for certain, straight to the dungeon in chains, and separated from us; a place where a guard could easily be paid to look the other way." He explained in a quiet tone. "What he doesn't know is that a higher vampire was monitoring her and you can bet that right now that mage is furiously trying to figure out why she fainted rather than shifted. As for the reason he'd do this? I've no thoughts. Have you?"

The bard placed the tray on the small side table by the fire and went to excuse himself, but the Witcher stopped him.

"No, stay." He said, his anger somewhat subsided in light of Regis' explanations. "She would want you here. As for my thoughts, all I know for certain is that Falithe was interested in her, and also had a hankering for belladonna. But I'm telling you Regis, unless he regenerated a head and body faster than you did, I don't see how he could be behind this."

"Well, no, clearly he isn't the person currently stalking our Root. He's not an elf after all. And agreed, there's no way he could regenerate that quickly even if he were one of my kind. Dandelion, have you any thoughts?" Regis asked, not wanting the bard to feel useless. "Perhaps someone new to this information can shed light on something."

Dandelion didn't know much about what had brought Geralt, Regis and Root together, but he'd pieced enough of it together to know that the Witcher had pursued the werewolf as part of a contract but then decided to not turn her in. And it was news to him at that moment that the hunter had actually killed the employer, but for what reason he did not know. Yet he did have a thought.

"Well, it might be that this Falithe was merely one stop along a much longer road. And if you killed him, perhaps someone has since discovered it, having been sent to check on

the progress. Maybe the elf left records about who he hired? A journal? Would that perhaps lead them to seek you out, thinking they'd find Root? Or at least question you about her?" the bard said.

Regis turned to the Witcher, "And you're not hard to find, Geralt. As our Dandelion once pointed out, everyone knows it when you enter a city, especially one in which you directly aided the king. Oh, stop brooding and trying to blame yourself, man. For goodness sake you saved her life from a sick, twisted person. Yes, damn you for not thinking to take the man's notes."

Geralt grumbled and brushed away the very dark thoughts that had indeed been creeping up into his mind as Dandelion spoke.

"I'm impressed, Dandelion. We of course don't know if that is the case, but my if that isn't the most sensible and logical reasoning I've heard in a long while. Well said. And I have another question for you, master bard." The vampire said motioning to the circlet and gloves. "Where did you find these particular things?"

"They were delivered to her room by one of the staff just as we were about to walk down to the parlor. She said they were a gift from an admirer, congratulating the lady on her first day at court." He said quietly. "They matched perfectly so I had her put them on. Why?"

The vampire could feel Geralt's temper beginning to flare and laid a hand on the Witcher's shoulder. Dandelion was a work of art for sure but Regis knew the bard knew few of the goings on concerning Root, Geralt and himself and how they all came together. Nor did he know anything of the strange man Roche had discovered.

"They're poisoned, Dandelion." Regis said softly and let the silence hang in the air for a good, long while to make a point.

Dandelion's heart froze in his chest and he looked to Root lying in the bed, covered in blankets, her skin pale and feverish, her breathing very shallow. For one horrifying moment he thought…

"She'll be fine." Regis said calmly. "And I know you had no reason to suspect foul play on behalf of anyone. But now you know and we all need you to be a bit more guarded from now on."

He nodded. "Yes, yes of course. I'm so sorry. How can I help?"

Geralt turned to him. "She. You said she. Which servant was it that brought the package? Would you recognize her?"

He nodded. "Yes, of course. Straight away. It was the older woman with the veil. The one looking like a sister from the temple of Melitele. She's the head mistress of the staff and…"

"Has access to every room in the palace, knows every hidden corridor, servants hallway and secret passageway. And I would bet a pound of fine diamonds from the dwarven mountains that our mage has her charmed." Regis finished. "He must've met up with her just before the court gathering, knowing Roche's men couldn't be absent from their duty at that time to trail after him. Very clever. We'll have to tread carefully, gentleman."

The vampire turned his attention to Root as she quietly coughed, and softly stroked her forehead, remembering their passionate love making the night before. She was still very warm and he could feel her body beginning to shiver.

"Wake up, my dear. Come back to us for a bit." He said quietly, lifting his spell. "Dandelion would you bring the tea and some food please?"

Root sighed and her eyelids fluttered. Geralt stood by the bed, leaning on the large post, while Regis sat at her side and held her hand.

"Where…am I?" she said.

"You're in bed, my dear. You fell ill today and fainted. But you need to eat a bit before getting more rest. Can you sit up?" he said helping her rest against the pillows.

Geralt paid very close attention to what Regis told her, knowing the vampire was veiling events from her memory until a later time. The bard approached and just about burst into tears as she weakly smiled and looked at him with the frightening black eyes, she not knowing his role in what had happened. But he bravely masked his reaction, something he'd tried to help her learn, and put the tray on her lap.

"Here you are." He said in his most cheerful voice. "You'll be as fresh as a summer rain soon enough."

"Oh my dear, master bard, how I must've embarrassed you. I'm so sorry. Thank you, Dandelion." She replied.

The poet choked a bit but smiled. "Nonsense, mi'lady. Just rest and get well."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

As the sun dipped below the horizon, and the stars began to glisten in the evening sky, the bard brought in a deck of cards and sat at her side, showing her various magic tricks he'd picked up in his travels. She especially enjoyed the slight of hand, as he made small things vanish from his hands. The fruit and cheese had gone down well enough, so Root decided to try some of the sliced venison on bread.

But unfortunately she wasn't able to keep it down, and after she'd spent an hour or more in the washroom, the Witcher carried her back to the bed. Regis in the meantime had been walking the hallway outside her room while invisible, hoping to catch some sign of the mage or the servant in his thrall. But he saw no one. Chances are the wizard knew it was far too risky to try anything further that day, and the vampire thought they and Root were reasonably safe so long as they stayed together. He was however, concerned for Vernon Roche, the man who also knew the mage's face and had ordered his men to shadow him. For Regis very much doubted that Roche and his men could avoid detection, where as he was certain the stalker had no idea he himself was onto him. Regis hoped they were all safe, but he would not allow himself to be away from Root much longer and so returned to the room.

Geralt had placed her back into bed and covered her as more severe chills began to set in.

"I'm so cold." She said weakly. "How did I get sick in the first place? Did I eat something bad?"

"No. We can get you warm though. Geralt, would you?" Regis asked, nodding to his friend. "I would do myself but your heightened metabolic rate makes you a far better heater than I."

Geralt, remembering his dream, just about fell off the post he was leaning on and Root, already being quite flushed, just averted her eyes shyly. But his friend was right; skin on skin was the best way to keep another person warm.

"But…Regis…" she said softly, reaching for his hand.

"It's alright, my love. This is purely medical and if you don't mind, I don't. There are some things I need to research regarding your illness and I cannot do that while lying with you." He said kissing her hand.

The Witcher stripped off his clothing and climbed into the bed from the other side while the vampire helped her scoot down. Geralt pressed his body up to her back, holding her to him and covered her with the quilt. Regis leaned down and kissed her sweetly, nodding thanks to his friend. Geralt reminded himself that it was only a dream and as he lay there with her, he felt no fear, no energy go out from him, nothing predatory at all. Shivering, she turned over on her other side and faced him, snuggling right into his chest, hearing the thrum of his strong heartbeat. As she lay there with him, Root noticed the many scars running across his chest and without thinking she traced them with her finger. Geralt took her hand and held it, not wanting to enjoy her soft touch too much with her lover and his best friends being a mere few feet away. This was supposed to be, as Regis said, purely medical.

 _Who is he kidding?_ Geralt thought.

"Did your trials hurt you, White Wolf?" she asked quietly.

Geralt smiled, thinking it sweet that she'd asked him about that despite being very ill herself in that moment. "Yes and no. In the end it was all worth it. Well, mostly."

Root's shivering began to subside as Geralt's body heat radiated from him to envelop her. "Mostly?" she asked.

"Another time, Root. Just relax and try to rest." He said softly, his golden eyes glittering in the darkness.

The woman looked up at him, her beautiful green eyes hidden by the black orbs of her pupils and Geralt suppressed the urge to growl in anger toward the mage who'd done this to a person he cared about.

"I'd like to know more about witchers, their abilities and…oh my..." She said with a yawn.

The Witcher chuckled quietly. "You're a persistent woman, do you know that? Very well, I shall answer one question tonight, and then promise me you'll rest."

Root nodded. "I promise."

Geralt nodded, satisfied with her answer. "What would you know then?"

"Regis once mentioned that witchers use potions for various reasons and effects. But since meeting you, I've not once seen you use one. Can you tell me about them? Are they made with plants, like the tonic I used? Are they magical? And…"

The Witcher put a finger to her lips and sweetly silenced her. "That's a lot more than one question. Yes, we use potions, too many to name. Some of them greatly increase our speed, some allow us to see in utter darkness, while others give us high levels of adrenaline and endurance. Some heal us, or increase our rate of healing and some are toxic to us, but our mutations allow our bodies to imbibe them with relative safety."

Root's eyes had begun to close listening to the cadence of his voice, but she was intrigued by what he'd said, and blinked away the sleep that was pulling her toward its realm.

"Relative safety?" she asked, yawning. "So there is a danger in using them?"

"That's another question, Root. You promised." He said quietly in his deep voice.

Resigned she laid her head on the pillow and listened to his heartbeat, noticing that the shivering had all but stopped. She felt a cool hand on her forehead and heard Regis' soft voice near her.

"Her fever is much improved. I'm betting you're very tired, Root, but are you hungry at all? Can you eat?" he asked, stroking her hair.

She shook her head, the thought of food and another trip to the washroom not being what she wanted at all. "Mhm."

"Very well, my dear. Rest."

She lay with the great hunter, while her vampire lover kept watch near by and Dandelion snoozed in one of the armchairs, his feet up on a cushioned ottoman. The Witcher too was concerned for Roche but knew nothing could be done at the moment. All of them were targets now that the wizards' plan had been foiled, even though Geralt was very sure the mage could have no idea how or who foiled his plan. Which made him more desperate, and more dangerous, but perhaps also more careless.

"It's so lovely, Geralt…" he heard Root whisper sleepily and he gazed down at her.

She was running her finger over the wolf medallion, the eyes set with rubies that caught the faintest light from the candle on the bedside table. Her shivering had ceased, and he could tell her body was exhausted from it.

"It is." He said, his voice very soft. He lifted the chain slightly so that it dangled and caught the light, reflecting red shimmers in the darkness between them. A sly grin on his shadowed face.

Root averted her gaze, knowing he was teasing her with the secret that was known only to him and Regis.

"Don't look away, Root. Watch." He whispered, mimicking Regis' lilting tone.

But she tucked her head into his chest to try and avoid seeing or hearing him. "Go to sleep, Root." He whispered, playfully brushing his lips against her ear, causing her to curl into him more and quietly squeal.

Regis glanced up over the edge of his book, sipped his tea and rolled his eyes. "You're dreadful, Witcher. Do I need to give you lessons?"

"Don't you dare!" she said, her voice muffled from under the covers.

"I think that was a yes." Geralt said, happy to see she was feeling better, even playful.

The vampire turned the page of his book and shifted his weight in the chair. "Well, my sweet, you'll be delighted to know our witcher does indeed know many ways in which to put someone to sleep. Swinging pendants being only one of them."

Root peered up at the Witcher.

"Is that true?" she asked him.

"Can I show you one?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Alright, get comfortable, and lay your head close to my chest. Good. Now, can you hear my breathing? Match your breathing to mine." He instructed quietly.

As before, Root lay close to him, hearing his heartbeat and she thought about each intake of breath, matching hers to his. With each one, she felt his chest expand and slowly release and she followed it as it got slower…and deeper…each time. In her mind, his pulse became a slow, soft drum beat, like how the elves used to play when she'd stayed with them, and his exhaling became as the whisper of wind through the trees. She barely heard him whispering an elven lullaby as they breathed together as one, her body following his as Geralt intentionally relaxed his heart rate and breathing to that of a person resting in alpha sleep.

When the vampire connected to her mind to check on her, he smiled. Her thoughts were still and silent. A soft snore and a sigh escaping her as she finally succumbed to natural sleep. Geralt pulled the covers up over her shoulders, and then he too closed his eyes and rested.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

After a few hours, when the evening had transitioned into full night, Geralt slowly rose from the bed, careful not to disturb the resting Root, and slipped up his pants, latching the belt, and pulled up another chair to the fireplace. Regis glanced up at him, still calm and collected, and reading a book on ancient herbalism and magical lore.

"Do you ever stop reading?" he grumbled, wishing he had some coffee instead of the loathed pot of tea sitting on the small table.

"Do you ever stop asking?" the vampire replied quietly, but marked his place, seeing as the Witcher wanted to talk. "What is it? Did you not sleep well despite the comfortable bed and lying next to a beautiful woman?"

The Witcher grinned at him. "Purely medical my ass. You really don't mind that?"

"Not even a little. I'm over four hundred years old; I'm a little over the whole jealous lover bit. I'm not ignorant of how she looks at you, Geralt, nor how you look at her. I know where her body, mind and…soul lie. If she fancies your bed and company at times, she's free to visit it so long as you want her to." He replied and Geralt had to admit that such openness in a man was rare and he admired it in his friend.

"Regis, there's something I've been wanting to discuss with you concerning Root." He said, glancing at Dandelion who was completely passed out in an awkward position in the opposite chair.

"I'm all ears." He replied.

"You know that Root's not a werewolf." He began, looking over to him.

"Of course." He replied with a grin. "I was wondering when you'd bring it up. However, I would caution that we not bring her attention to it. She already has much to deal with right now and the specific nature of her being would probably trouble her in a way we don't want it to."

"Agreed. But, do you know what she is?" Geralt asked, pouring himself a cup of tea and grimacing. "I hate this stuff."

The vampire shook his head.

"No. But to be more precise, she is not a cursed woman. Well, not anymore but that was different. What I mean to say is that her being what she is, a werewolf for lack of a better word, is not the result of a curse laid on her personally. However, she is at least part werewolf biologically, acquiring the shifting trait from her father and, it would seem, forced lunar transformations. I'm supposing by your question that you don't know what she is either?" Regis asked.

"I don't. Not exactly. I've felt…sensations at times when around her. Not all the time, just once in a while since our meeting. I'd feel my medallion vibrate and then…it's like energy is leeched from my body." Geralt said and remembered his dream.

"I dreamt of her last night. She came to me in my bedroom and she was…hungry, like she was starved. I could feel my life force being drained from me as we…well, that part isn't important. And yet I could barely stop her." He explained, not liking the feeling of being overwhelmed in that way.

Regis nodded. "I know what you mean."

"You do?" Geralt asked, surprised.

The vampire nodded. "Yes. Well, except for the not being able to stop her part. Whatever else she may be, she is something akin to other vampires; only she hungers for vitality, a beings' energy, not their liquid blood. Happily, due to my immortality, I am like an endless well of energy for her to consume. So it doesn't affect me when I feel her drawing from me. However, like myself when I was younger, she doesn't know how to control it. And in this case, she doesn't even realize she's doing it. I would guess her father knew, and thus that's one more reason why he kept her secluded. And so you're right, she is starved. Well, was. She's quite fine at the moment, especially after last night."

The Witcher reflected for a bit, trying to recall anything in his training that spoke of such a creature. But he was curious.

"Why you?" he asked. "Does she draw from you a lot? She's only done it to me a few times since meeting her."

"Frequently." He replied. "As for why, well think of the nature of bees. They go forth into the world seeking pollen and the lovely nectar of flowers. The more attractive the flower, the more bees swarm to it. My endless, immortal energy is like the biggest, most fragrant flower in the field, and so she goes right for it. Me. And I'm glad to be here, in fact. As a healer it quite troubles me to think what would be happening were I not here to keep her, erm…fed, and she were draining you, Dandelion and others to the point of chronic fatigue or illness. Don't mistake me, she needs to be told one day, so she can learn to control it and feed more discreetly. Just not right now."

"But that doesn't help us know what she is. If we knew, perhaps someone could help her." Geralt said.

The vampire feigned being hurt but smiled at his friend.

"My dear Geralt, you wound me. Of course I want to know what she is, for scholarly reasons, and because I care deeply for her. I'm working on it. But does it matter what we call her? I don't think so. What matters is what is she doing and how can we help her live in a way as to not harm others. But if you'd like a theory, here's mine. I think her father was indeed a werewolf, a cursed man, like all werewolves of this world. It was her mother's line who perhaps came from another dimension during the Conjunction. They being some sort of vampiric entities, ones I'm not familiar with, and one fell in love with a werewolf. The result, a full moon bound, shape-shifting, vampiric woman who most often looks human but radiates an otherworldly presence that draws others to her, almost against their will. Unless of course your will is stronger than hers." Regis explained.

Geralt turned to him and crossed his arms.

"What does that mean?" Geralt said, not enjoying the idea that she'd been manipulating him. But Regis had anticipated the objection. "And what are you, immune?"

"I said almost, almost against their will. Clearly you and others still have free will when it comes to her. But surely you've recognized that you feel very protective of her, yes? Dandelion already feels it, as does your man Roche. But ask them why they feel that way after such a short time of knowing her and I promise you they wouldn't know why. You at least have a deeper connection to her, considering how you two crossed paths, and thus it's understandable why you'd feel that way. And I? Well, yes I'm immune. Why you ask? Simply because I am what I am. Few, if any, can match my kind, Geralt. You know this."

The White Wolf nodded his head, accepting the sensible explanation. And he did have to concede Regis' point, it was eerie how quickly both Dandelion and Vernon Roche came accept Root. Especially Roche who was attacked by her and then promptly offered to escort them to Vizima, as if forgetting his cracked ribs in an instant.

"What did you mean by, especially after last night? What happened?" Geralt asked.

The vampire's dark eyes were guarded but not unfriendly.

"I…fed her. By sexually exhausting her body and mind, I was able to interrupt her feed on me and instead placed my energy and…will…into her. It was, is, very intimate, Geralt. I will only say this, that my will is stronger than hers and should she ever begin to lose control, I can and will stop her." He said.

"How will you know if she's losing control? What if you're not around her?" Geralt asked.

The vampire put two fingers to his temple.

"She no longer has to be in my presence for me to access her mind. And yes she consented to this willingly before you complain about her free will being violated. Other than that, I shall say no more. For it is a union that goes beyond words. Forgive me." Regis said quietly.

The Witcher nodded, respecting the vampire's wishes. But Regis brightened, poured another cup of tea and Dandelion shifted in his chair as the fire crackled.

"It is fascinating though is it not? Who knew that a werewolf's offspring could carry the changing trait but not the curse itself? At least not fully since she is bound to change during the full moon. Or perhaps the mother was also some sort of shifter? So much about our world that even a four hundred year old vampire doesn't know. Surely even you must be fascinated by her, Geralt." He said.

The White Wolf looked over to his friend, wondering if he should say anything. But of course Regis already knew.

"I've read her thoughts, Geralt. She too greatly desires you. And as I said before, no, I don't mind." Regis replied.

"She was killing me, Regis. In the dream. She was not able to stop herself and the more she drained me, the more hideous her otherworldly beauty became. If that makes any sense." He said quietly. "And yet, I wanted her. I…still do. Forgive me, Regis, but I do."

Regis nodded. "Yes. Just remember, Geralt, it was only a dream. More like a witcher wet nightmare it would seem. But I ravished her last night, my good man, and I promise you she wasn't hideous. However, I do believe it would be possible for you and she to be intimate without much, if any, risk to you."

"How?" the White Wolf asked, curious as much as anything.

"Well, if I…fed…her first, she would have no reason to drain anything from you. And, well if I may be frank, depending on how much you exhaust her, I'm certain it'd be safe anyways." He said as calmly as if chatting about the weather.

"You would do that?" Geralt asked. "Even though you two are…"

"For her, I would do anything." Regis said with such a reverence that it stunned the Witcher. "Even if it means sharing her. I know where her heart and mind lie. Please do not misunderstand me, old friend. It isn't because I couldn't care less that I'm perfectly fine with her being intimate with you. It's because my heart is so full, more full than it has been in four hundred years, that I want to give her everything I can while she shares this life with me…us. For you guess rightly, Geralt, she loves us both. She just loves me more."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Elsewhere, in a tiny, darkened storage room lit only by sputtering candles, a robed, hooded man stood with crossed arms before a tall full-length mirror under which glowed arcane symbols. A voice spoke from the dark glass.

"You were too heavy handed with the poisoned garments. They could've killed her."

The figure nodded. "I knew the risk, lordship. It was my plan to intervene before lethal action was ordered. Besides, I have the guards and servants under my sway. I was to save them from the creature, and they would've handed Selithlene over to me for immediate removal from the grounds and city. We'd be on our way now but…"

The mage paused, playing the parlor scene over in his mind when he'd watched it unfold from his place of concealment on the upper balcony. But try as he might, he couldn't figure out what had stopped the transformation.

"But what?" spoke the voice from the mirror.

"Everything was going according to plan, perfectly I might add. I saw the signs, her flushed skin, dilated eyes and erratic breathing. She was going to shift, I could see it, the panic. And then…she fainted. I can't explain it. She's now under the care of a physician staying here who never leaves her side, nor does the witcher. And the bard has most likely told them that it was the head housekeeper that delivered the garments." He said.

"Dispose of her. She could talk should someone unmask your spell. As I said, that was heavy handed. Have you anything else to report?" spoke the voice in the mirror, a clear tone of annoyance now coming through.

The mage lowered his head. "My…presence here is known, lordship. The man Vernon Roche. While his agents have fallen under my spell, that man is practically a ghost. He discovered me in the grand hall straight away and I've had to remain in deep cover for much of the time, using the servants' halls and passageways to traverse the palace. He has no evidence to accuse me of anything criminal, and so cannot make an overt move against me."

There was a long moment of silence from the voice in the mirror and the hooded man swore he could feel the shadowy presence from within wanting to strike him down where he stood. But instead he felt the familiar leeching of energy from his body. It made him weak and he sank to his hands and knees.

"Still, they know you were watching her. I'm sure they've worked it out that servants would have no reason to poison the target. As tenuous as it is, I wager they suspect, rightly, that you're behind this. They just cannot prove it. You're a great disappointment to me, Arklan. I should kill you." Spoke the venomous voice from the void.

"Please, lordship, I beg you. I will be the one to bring her to you. I swear it. I have another idea. It's risky, but they won't hesitate to give her to me. Please…please…" he said, falling to the floor, his body becoming weaker.

Finally the force from beyond relented and the mage found himself gasping and struggling to rise to his knees.

"I've waited for almost forty years to finally find her. Falithe almost had her in his clutches, the sick man that he was. At least that twisted half brother of yours was good for something. And then she disappears, only to be seen with the very witcher hired to capture her. If she escapes me yet again I will feed you a piece at a time to rats while you're awake. Bring her to the portal and do not contact me again until you have her."

The mage groveled before the mirror as the voice faded. After struggling to his feet, he covered the mirror with a sheet and then turned to the vacant eyed woman wearing a coif and veil standing the corner. Arklan produced a large, glowing crystal from beneath his shirt and dangled it before her staring eyes.

"You will to go to the top most tower and throw yourself off of it. Go." He commanded and she obeyed.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24 (A bit longer than usual, my friends. No good place to break until it does. You'll see. Enjoy!)

As dawn painted the sky, Root slowly opened her eyes and found that her back was comfortably formed to Geralt's chest, his arm draped over her, with Regis sitting on the other side, his back against the plush pillows, yet another book in hand. He turned and smiled at her as she woke, noting that her eyes were still quite dilated but there was definitely more green visible than there was last night. He marked his place, set the book on the nightstand and put his nose into her soft brown hair as she sat up and stretched.

"Good morning, my lady." He said quietly, mindful of the snoozing witcher. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. I'm still not sure what happened though. Weren't we supposed to meet the king?" she asked, tossing Geralt's discarded shirt over her body.

Regis slipped from the bed and helped her to stand, while the Witcher rolled into the space, put his arms under the pillows and snored.

"Yes. All is well though. His majesty was very gracious and understanding of your lapse into a bit of illness. Probably just a cold you picked up from someone in town. Nothing to worry about. Just, do be aware that your eyes are a bit erm…changed from it at the moment. A result of the tea I had you sip while you were faint and a bit delirious from the fever." He said, hating to lie to her, but he couldn't very tell her she'd been poisoned, not yet.

Root looked around at the lavish room and sighed. How she missed the woods, the scent of the forest, her collection of plants and the feeling of fresh air on her skin already. But she looked at her Regis, and breathed deeply, loving his scent. And yet she missed his usual look of simple clothing and travel cloak, his linen bag filled with herbs making him smell even more wonderful. Still, so long as he was with her, Root felt she could endure anything. She looked longingly out the window and walked to it. Below, the aspen trees were shining with frost but her eyes were drawn instead to the giant red pool and the body that had been broken upon landing on the lion fountain, now smeared with red-black gore. She gasped and her startled tone brought Regis to the window and woke both Dandelion and Geralt.

"Oh no…" Regis whispered and sadly lowered his head, grieved for the serving woman.

The Witcher and Dandelion came to the window and they too beheld the broken body of the head mistress, the bard immediately recognizing her but remaining tactfully silent. Outside the door, they could hear commotion and the sound of booted feet. The chamber door was flung open and soldiers entered the room, blades drawn, crossbowmen ready.

"Seize her immediately." Spoke the captain of the guard, jabbing two fingers at Root.

The Witcher growled. "What is this? Why?"

"Stand down, mutant." Spat the guard. "She's under arrest for the murder of several citizens of Vizima. Hand her over or risk his majesty's punishment."

"What?!" Root exclaimed in a horrified voice.

"His eyes…" Regis whispered to Geralt. "He's enthralled. They all are."

"Shit." He growled, checking to see how far his blades were from his reach.

The captain approached a much shaken Root and pulled her away from them, forcing her hands behind her back.

"No…no…" she said, looking to Regis and Geralt, her eyes frightened and pleading.

The Witcher, vampire and bard didn't dare make a move against the charmed men, not knowing what the consequences could be for any or all of them. But Regis connected with her mind and spoke to her mentally, something he'd not done before.

 _Be calm, Root. You have to be calm. Don't shift_.

"Come along, wretch, and face his majesty's judgment." He said and the soldiers backed out of the room. "You lot are banished from the grounds forthwith. I suggest you leave."

And they slammed the door. The second it was closed, the Witcher dashed for his armor and began dressing. Regis collected his satchel and cloak, Dandelion was stunned into silence, looking completely helpless…and then tilted his head strangely as a section of wall by the bed just…opened on silent hinges, exposing a hidden passage behind it.

"This way!" hissed a familiar voice.

"Vernon!" they all said in hushed unison, turning to him.

"Quickly before someone hears." He said motioning them into the narrow passage and closing the wall behind them.

Geralt turned to the head of the Blue Stripes, his gold eyes blazing.

"They took Root. Why?" he said.

"That mage reported her to the king this morning, citing he has evidence that she's a werewolf. Several of my men were found dead, and many of the servants. There is panic everywhere, we have to hurry." Vernon said, leading them down the passageway.

"But he doesn't have evidence does he? How could he?" Regis said. "How is he going to prove this?"

"I don't know, Emiel. But the king has to take an accusation like that seriously, especially in light of the deaths. And I overheard him, the mage, speaking to someone last night. Something about getting her to a portal and searching for her for forty some years. I've no idea what that means but, in here….look at this…"

Vernon led them into the tiny storage room and both Geralt and Regis immediately recognized the arcane symbolism on the floor, drawn in chalk, which would glow when activated by magic. On either side of the mirror were two focusing crystals on silver stands.

"Communication mirror." Geralt said, recognizing the apparatus used by sorceresses and wizards alike for long distance conversations. "Yennefer has one of these, as does Triss. So you were right, Dandelion, someone else is involved."

"But where?" Regis asked, frustrated and worried for Root. "We have to take this mage alive, Vernon. I can get the information from him, but I need him alive."

"I'll do my best. Come. Quickly." Roche said.

"Wait." Geralt said, taking the crystals and slipping them into his pouch. And then he punched the mirror with his leathered fist, smashing it. "Let's hope that was the only one he had."

In the same parlor she'd seen the other day, the king waited for her, standing with hands clasped behind his back in front of the lion throne, flanked by armed guards bearing blades with crossbowmen lining the upper balcony. The captain roughly shoved her forward, throwing her to the marble floor before the king as the doors slammed shut behind them with a loud echo.

"Be calm…be calm…" she whispered, remembering her love's voice in her mind.

She looked up into the severe face of the ruler of Temeria and even though she was only dressed in a simple cotton shirt, Root covered herself as modestly as she could and spoke quietly.

"My gracious host and exalted ruler of this fine country; I am your humble servant. How have I offended you?" she said, trying to control her trembling voice, remembering Dandelion's coaching.

The king gazed on her, his look unreadable, and he turned to the person that came to his side, a hooded figure holding a crystal pendant dangling from a leather cord. All of the guards turned as one, mesmerized by the glowing stone he held, their eyes foggy and vacant. Root looked around her, fearful, and the figure walked toward her.

"At last." He whispered. "You're quite the pest, do you know that?"

He turned to King Foltest and held the crystal up before the lord's staring eyes.

"She's guilty. You will turn her over to me and order a manhunt for the witcher and her companions for conspiracy to regicide." He whispered and the king nodded slowly.

The mage then turned his attention back to Root. He lowered his hood and she saw a half-elven man with black hair and golden eyes. But upon his face was a huge scar that marred a major portion of his right side, like claws had raked the skin.

"And now it's your turn. You're going to come quietly or I'm going to start killing these men and others until you obey. Are we clear?" Arklan said.

Root didn't want anyone around her to die but she had no intention of going anywhere with the person in front of her.

"Who are you?!" she cried. "What do you want with me?"

He laughed evilly and clapped slowly.

"Oh it's always the same isn't it? What do you want?" he said in a mocking voice, laughing at her. "As if I'd simply tell you because you asked. Now…look here, Selithlene, watch…"

He held the crystal up and she heard him lower his tone to a similar cadence she'd heard Regis use. The pendant glowed and was reflected in her dark eyes, inviting her into its depths. But instead of falling under his spell, Root felt a power go out from her and the mage reeled backwards, stumbling and clutching his forehead in agony, screaming in pain.

The parlor doors slammed open then, and she turned as Geralt, Vernon and Dandelion stood with blades drawn, flanked by the Blue Stripes, the only guards not under the influence of the powerful wizard.

"Your Highness!" Vernon shouted. "This is sorcery, snap out of it!"

But the mage recovered and laughed wickedly, holding up the pendant in his hand, which began to pulse with light.

"Kill them all! They threaten your king!" he said, and the soldiers all turned to them as one, obeying the mage.

And then Regis suddenly appeared out of thin air by the wizards' side.

"I bet that hurt." He said, a smile of sheer triumph on his face, knowing what had lashed the man as he tried to enchant Root. "You're certainly no Vilgefortz."

The vampire snatched the crystalline pendant from his grasp and crushed it in his fist, grinding it into powder. There was a rush of magical energy as the minds of those imprisoned were released to find their respective owners. But then Root heard the latch of a crossbow release and a wet thud. The vampire was laid low, a bolt sticking out from his shoulder. He did not move.

"Oh." Geralt uttered.

"Shit." Vernon finished.

"Regis!" Dandelion screamed in horror, his voiced elevated at least two octaves higher than normal.

Root began to shake and a terrible howl filled the palace as she poured forth her rage and sorrow. Her body melted into transformation and she rose up, terrible in her wrath, unleashing a roar to shake the foundation of the palace itself.

"Everyone run! Get out!" Vernon yelled, knowing full well the might of that dark brown furred form.

Foltest shook his head, clearing his thoughts and beheld the utter chaos around him. His men were all armed to the teeth, looking confused and there was an enormous wolven beast standing before his throne, heaving and snarling with eyes glowing like burning pools of green balefire.

"Fire!" Foltest cried, not knowing what was happening.

"NO!" Geralt cried, dashing forward, but it was too late.

Crossbows fired from all directions, slamming bolts into Root's body. But she ignored them all and turned her gaze onto the mage who had turned to run. The Witcher knew he couldn't let her kill him, they needed him to talk to save their skins and uncover who or what was hunting her.

"HERE!" he cried and leapt in front of her. "Root, listen to me! Stop!"

He heard the guards reloading their bows, and the sound of more soldiers running to the throne room. She snarled at him, unleashing knife-like claws and raking the marble floor, scratching deep groves into it. Root smelled his silver blade, snorted, and felt a hatred for anyone who stood in front of her getting at the man who'd killed her soulmate. The Witcher was stunned by the sheer rage and pain he felt flowing from her but he stood his ground.

"Majesty, stop!" Vernon cried, rushing after the half-elf. "That man there is the real criminal!"

But Geralt again heard the release of bows and Root staggered as the bolts bit into her body again, causing one of her legs to buckle. She looked to where Regis lay still and she howled in agony, her mind exploding with rage and she let loose a horrid roar that terrified the men around her, many of them panicking and fleeing the throne room. Again the release of the crossbows and it nearly broke the Witcher to see her bleeding so badly, one of her legs mangled, but she continued trying to move forward to kill the mage who had been grabbed by Roche and held at sword point, her eyes burning. No axii sign would penetrate that mindset.

"Root, please…they're killing you…listen to me." Geralt said, laying his blades down.

"My lord, order them to stand down! She's not the threat, I give you my word!" Vernon said.

"Cease fire!" Foltest said, trusting his most loyal soldier.

The Witcher slowly approached the snarling werewolf who didn't seem to know him and extended his hand. She curled her lips, drool sliding from her maw as dagger length canines appeared.

"You're bleeding badly, Root. You need help. Hear me, hear my voice, Root." He said, trying anything to pierce the cloud of rage.

Her blood was pooling beneath her quickly, and she staggered. With the last bit of her strength, the werewolf rose up and hurled herself out the stained glass window behind the throne. Geralt grabbed his blades and raced out of the throne room.

"Dandelion and Vernon, stay and explain!" he called running past the still panicking soldiers and others confused by the chaos around them.

A groan drew both Foltest's and Vernon's attention as Regis sat up and pulled the crossbow bolt from his shoulder.

"Oh dear, I forgot how much those hurt." He said, tossing it aside like a mere splinter, and then beheld the blood soaked floor, scenting Root's and only Root's blood.

He stood up, turning to Foltest, and Roche who held the mage in his grasp. Both were silent at the moment, not understanding how someone they thought was dead just got up as if waking from a nap.

"Ah, your majesty, you're recovered I see. Excellent. I promise you we shall explain. But first…" he said and turned to the mage.

The vampire seized him by the throat and stared coldly into the man's eyes, who immediately fell under his spell and into a deep sleep. Powerful as he was, he was no match for Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy.

"Lock him up. He will not wake, I assure you. I'll be back!" he said and raced from the room with supernatural speed after the Witcher.

Geralt ran into the frosty winter air, and searched for the blood trail that would betray where she'd run to. He spotted it leading into the palace gardens and discovered several more broken bodies, murdered by the mage who ordered them to leap to their deaths. But he realized that this situation was exactly what the mage wanted, chaos; with the only explanation possible in the minds of most human beings being a rampant monster. He followed the blood, but it led out of the gardens, out the east entrance and into the woods.

"Damn it." He sighed, knowing he could easily lose her the deeper she went.

The Witcher found blood on a large tree, lots of it, and fur. She was limping, the tracker noting that the paw prints were irregular and long; one of her legs was dragging behind. He followed it as heavy snow began to fall, which would cover the trail. The woods glistened with the morning sunlight on the iced trees, and would've been beautiful had the situation not been so dire.

"Shit. Root!" He called into the forest, turning in a circle, but heard nothing.

He continued tracking, finding another large pool of blood, then another. Up ahead he spied a cave entrance buried into the side of a moss covered mound, nearly concealed

with thick roots, vines and foliage. There was blood soaked fur all over the entrance. Geralt crouched down, trying to see in the darkness.

"Root?" he said, pushing his way into the cave, his witcher pupils widening, seeing that it split in two directions.

A soft whine echoed back to him. He followed the path to the left where there was a natural opening in the mound ceiling that let the light in. The snow was falling through to land on the brown fur of the blood drenched werewolf. Root's body was pierced many times by crossbow bolts, some of them broken off inside. Her legs lay behind her, useless, and she could barely raise her head as the great hunter approached. He slipped the blades from his back, set them aside and put his hand on her muzzle.

"Oh Root, you're hurt bad. I…I don't know what to do. If I remove the bolts, you'll bleed out. If you change, I'm afraid it'll kill you." He said, his golden eyes being utterly confused as to what he should do. "Can you draw energy from me?"

But she only looked at him and blinked slowly. He remembered then that of course she didn't even know she could do that.

"If I had my potions, they might help." He said, feeling helpless, and stroking her limp paw, remembering how she asked him about them. He resolved that if she lived he'd never refuse to tell her anything she asked about ever again.

The White Wolf looked down at the forest maiden and recognized in her green eyes that distant look of one fading from the world. The snow had begun to pile up on her body and she no longer shivered, or growled and her blinking became very slow.

"No…" he said softly. "Please…if you die, it'll be my fault. I did this to you. I should never have…"

The werewolf's beast form melted away, and the woman, broken and bloody lay in the snow looking up at the great Geralt of Rivia. The supernatural power that infused her body and caused the transformation was too weak to maintain the shifted form and Geralt was horrified to see her blood staining the ground so quickly. She wheezed and limply raised her hand, which he held. Her eyes drifted past him, over his shoulder and the hunter thought she'd gone from the world when she didn't blink for a long time.

"Leave us, old friend." He heard Regis say softly.

The vampire placed a hand on Geralt's shoulder. He knew the Witcher was literally eating himself alive with guilt over what had happened, and now wasn't the time to try and talk the man out of his reasoning.

"Can you make a fire in the adjacent cave? Please?" he asked.

The Witcher nodded and reluctantly left her side.

Regis came and knelt by his love, placing a hand on her face and stroking her cheek. She barely moved, but he did see the spark of love and happiness in her eyes. He connected to her mind, and saw through her eyes. In the distance was a dark green forest, like those of the north, and in her vision she was moving toward it.

"No, come back, Root. Come back to me. Follow my voice back." He said, slipping off his cloak and removing his jacket and shirt. "Don't leave this world without me."

The vampire bit into his wrist and pressed the wound to her mouth.

"Blood of my blood, I baptize you into my ancient line. Drink from me and know the bond that goes beyond death. Heal, and become mine forever. It is all I can give you that is most precious, my heart, my soul. Come back to me." He said, feeling his very essence drain into her mouth.

Root weakly lapped at the liquid, the moisture feeling so good on her dry lips. And her eyes flared wide as Regis' powerful energy flooded her bruised body. The vampire jerked slightly as she bit him, trying to suck more from the wound. He also felt her beginning to pull energy from his body at the same time she drank his blood. But he bore it, knowing full well he could stop her at any time. He looked and saw the smaller wounds closing with a supernatural quickness, and then her skin began forcing the bolts from her body, pushing them out, the wounds sealing. Root's twisted legs turned of their own accord, and the bones fit themselves into the right positions, the skin mending and she rose to her knees to better be able to feed. Hungrily she continued to drink from him and Regis closed his eyes, feeling intense pleasure from the most intimate act of sharing himself he could engage in. And while he was immortal and an endless well for her, he had to stop her before she got too drunk on it.

"That's enough, Root. Ah…stop, stop, my love." He said, removing his wrist from her mouth, the wound mending almost instantly.

The woman knelt before him, her mind swimming with all sorts of thoughts and emotions. But her body felt more alive than it ever had, his blood and potent energy humming inside her veins. She felt like she could crush boulders with her bare hands. But…

"You…you're alive…" was what she managed to say. "I…I saw you…"

Regis smiled in his mysterious way, "My dear, did you think I could be felled so easily? No. Ask the Witcher sometime how hard it is to kill one of my kind. Come, we must get you warm and clothed. And unfortunately we have to go back to that dreadful place to deal with the mage."

But she crawled to him and passionately brought her mouth to his and he did not refuse. Root kissed him with such devotion, her hands desperately clutching him to her and he held her so tightly and returned all her passion with his own, knowing the taste of his own blood still lingering on her mouth.

"You're alive…" she whispered emotionally. "I didn't want to live without you…."

The vampire, as much as he wanted to hold and comfort her, knew they had work yet to do and slowly separated himself from her arms. But he kissed her forehead and gazed into her eyes.

"We have eternity now, my Root. Patience, my love." He said mysteriously, and she looked at him, confused. "Later."

The Witcher had built a small fire in the adjoining cave and was relieved when the two of them appeared in the glow of the firelight. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

"Geralt!" she said and threw herself into his arms.

He embraced her, holding her to his chest, never wanting to let her go. He looked to Regis over her shoulder who nodded, understanding perfectly how the hunter felt.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Things at the palace were still chaotic, but the wise King Foltest had immediately used his incredible good nature and charisma to rally the men of his court to better spirits. The mage, deeply asleep, was under guard and Vernon Roche never left the cell he was in, leaving the Stripes to lead the other guards through the castle, led by the serving staff, to find any more of the communication mirrors and their crystals and bring them to the dungeon as evidence. Sadly they found more bodies, some with their throats slashed, and some without a wound on them, dead by poisoning. In another wing of the palace, largely unused, they found what appeared to be the main room the man had been using. There were several vials of poison, more crystals, and books on lycanthropy, herbalism, magical theory, teleportation, inter-dimensional travel, and vampirism. And most importantly, a journal.

In the throne room, Dandelion could think of nothing else to do but begin the process of washing the blood from the marble floor. The bard bravely rolled up his sleeves, found a bucket of water and a pile of clean cloths and despite having to wipe away his tears at times, he finally managed to get the stone clean. But he broke down when his fingers brushed the space where her claws had raked grooves and he grieved for Root, not knowing what had happened, and feared he may never see her again. And like the Witcher, he blamed himself for having brought such a wild spirit into the world of men.

 _Maybe Geralt is right_. He wondered. _Maybe she doesn't belong here._

As evening began to fall, and the sconces were being lit around the palace, Dandelion was at least pleased to see that for the most part people were able to go about their business. They had all been enspelled, and didn't realize what had happened to them, or even what they'd seen, nor the roles they may have played in the death and chaos that had filled the place.

"Lucky them." He muttered and turned as the parlor doors opened.

There stood the mighty Witcher, clad in his leathered maile, his white hair stained with blood, and next to him walked the immortal Emiel Regis, looking ever like the apothecary sales clerk with his earthen toned garments and linen satchel over one shoulder. And with him, the forest maiden, Root, wearing a pair of Geralt's pants, his shirt, a pair of Regis' soft boots and the vampire's cloak about her shoulders, looking very much alive, in fact, he swore she was glowing.

"Dandelion!" she cried and immediately ran to the bard and embraced him. "Oh, Dandelion, you're safe!"

Stunned the bard wrapped his arms around her, stifling a sob.

"Root! How did…what happened…You look…" he stammered.

"No time, Dandelion." Geralt said, and put a hand on his friends' shoulder. "We can chat about it all later."

King Foltest turned as the group approached the throne, his eyes not quite unfriendly but guarded, as he still was entirely unsure what had happened. But he knew the four in front of him were involved. Root calmly stepped forward and genuflected before the king, lowering her eyes.

"Your grace, I humbly beg your forgiveness for this which has befallen your home. I take full responsibility for all that has happened and accept your punishment as just. Forgive me." She said quietly, and the bard would've been beaming had not the circumstances been so dreadful.

The king gazed at her with softness in his eyes and a light mirthful grin on his aged face.

"Rise." He said calmly. "I accept your apology. However, if my man Roche is correct, I believe you take too much of this on your shoulders, lady. However, I think it's time you all explained, in detail, exactly what you know about this man and why he invaded my home with such murderous intent."

"We will, your Excellency." Regis said, stepping forward with a bow. "If we might discuss this in private though? There are things that need not be known to all."

The king nodded and the group followed him to an adjacent room, more like a study as it was lined with bookshelves and a small fireplace, and the king turned to them as the door closed. The Witcher then started from the beginning, and told his majesty everything that had happened, how he came to know Root, the nature of her changes, why she was traveling with them, and the vile intentions of Falithe aen Caem. And Regis explained that it was never their intention to stay in Vizima at all, but to continue on living in the wilds, but had no wish to offend the king by refusing such a generous offer of hospitality. Hearing such, Foltest glanced to Dandelion, which made the bard want to hide, but to his credit he remained silent and collected.

"As for this mage," Regis began. "Dandelion brilliantly suggested that he was merely a pawn in someone else's game, your Grace. And given what Vernon Roche overheard the other night, I believe the poet is very much correct. And if I have your leave, Excellency, I'd like to interrogate the man."

The king listened to it all patiently, his eyes resting on the woman, and then looking at each of them in turn. Finally he turned to the Witcher.

"So a witcher who doesn't turn in the monster he's hired to capture, eh? And your generous act of sparing her life led to all of this?" he asked, not knowing how very close to the mark he was hitting.

Geralt felt like he'd been stabbed in the chest with someone twisting the knife. And yet he knew if he could do it all again he'd change nothing.

"My liege," Dandelion said quietly. "I believe that is too harsh. Geralt has a tendency to see himself as the one to blame in many circumstances but, truly this is entirely my fault."

"Dandelion," Geralt growled, but the bard interrupted him.

"No, Geralt. You were right. About everything. I was thinking only of myself and I was ignorant of your circumstances and hers. Had I not approached his majesty, none of this would've happened. Maybe the mage would've found you on the road, and maybe that would've been bad too, I don't know. But all this, all these men and women are dead…because of me. If anyone deserves full punishment for this, it is I, Excellency. But please, spare Root and my friends. Let them leave. The sooner she returns to the forest, the better." The bard said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Regis was impressed by the bards' humility, although he felt that Dandelion too was taking too much blame. As he'd explained to Geralt before, they all knew the risks and willingly took them. And all were ignorant of the mage's presence until the night of the feast. The king paced his study quietly as the group waited.

"You all are very eager to blame yourselves for this. However, one thing is clear to me; your intentions were never to harm me or my people. It just so happened that harm was following in your wake, like the huntsman chasing a doe. Only this doe didn't know she was still being hunted. So let's go and speak to this hunter who brought the chase to my doorstep." He said and they followed him to the dungeon.

Vernon Roche stood with crossed arms and a severe face, guarding the man who was locked in dimeritium manacles, still unconscious as he hung limply from the wall.

"Well done, Vernon." Regis said. "I wouldn't have expected suppression manacles to be available. Pardon, your Grace, but those are extremely rare."

"We've had our share of odd, rare occurrences here, Master Regis." Roche said. "Can you wake him?"

The vampire approached and had only to touch the man briefly to lift the spell. He groaned and weakly raised his head, looking up to find himself in a dank cell lit by guttering torches, surrounded by the same group he'd seen in the parlor, only all alive and well, including his target. Arklan felt the magic suppression in the chains. Knew he'd failed. Knew his lord would kill him. Knew his life was over.

"You might as well kill me now." He said nastily. "You'll get nothing from me."

"Excuse me, Regis, before you begin." Geralt said, who stepped up to the prisoner and smashed his fist into his jaw, knocking out several teeth.

Roche grinned, preferring rough treatment over soft diplomacy any day, but the king was a lot more composed and motioned for Regis to begin. The mage didn't cry out, only spat out the blood and waited.

Regis approached the man who turned his head away.

"Look at me." Emiel Regis commanded, and the man was compelled to obey.

Arklan looked up into the vampire's eyes and knew a will that was far more ancient and powerful than the lord he served. His mind crumbled beneath such power.

"Let's start simply. Who are you?" Regis asked quietly.

"Arklan aen Caem." He replied calmly.

Regis nodded to Geralt, who growled, his hands becoming fists. Root leaned on him, slipping her hand into his to hold it.

"I see. And what is your connection to Falithe?" the vampire asked.

"He's was my half brother."

"That explains the belladonna." Regis said to Geralt. "Must be a plant they both enjoyed using, for many reasons. And notice the past tense reference, which confirms that Falithe is truly dead. A relief, to be sure."

"And now to the point, Arklan. Why are you hunting Root? On who's orders, and what is their intent?" Regis asked, folding his arms.

"His lordship needs Selithlene; needs her blood to open the barrier between this world and his so that he and his kind can cross over." The mage said blinking slowly.

Regis was shocked, knowing full well what a blood sacrifice would do if performed at a place where the veil between worlds was thin. It could make a tear big enough for otherworldly beings to come through, or it could begin the clock ticking toward another Conjunction of the Spheres, which would have devastating effects on the current world, as one did centuries ago when his own kind found themselves stranded. And he also noted the name by which he referred to Root.

"You must've been promised something, Arklan; something major for you to risk shifting time and space toward a possible cataclysm. What was it?" Regis asked.

"Eternal life." He replied.

Regis took note, but continued. "You mentioned this lord needs Selithlene's blood. Why hers?"

"She is partly their kind, of their world, partly of this world. She is a key to unlock the path so more may enter this realm physically." He said.

Root was stunned by what the man was saying and confused but Regis turned and motioned for her to be silent. The vampire waved a hand toward one of the mirrors that had been brought into the dungeon.

"Is this how you communicate with this lord?" he asked.

"Yes." The mage replied.

"Are there more than those here at the palace that are tuned to that realm?" the vampire asked.

"No." and Regis was relieved.

"And what is this lord? Of what nature are his kind?" Regis asked.

There was a pause, the mage's mind searching for how to answer.

"Scholars here would classify them as lesser vampires. Although they feed on energy, a person's life force, rather than blood." He said.

Regis lowered his head and lifted his spell, allowing the man full memory of the conversation that just took place. The mage glared back, shame and anger in his golden eyes.

"I can see the appeal this lord's offer had for you, Arklan." Regis said, looking up again. "You wouldn't be the first mortal being to swear fealty to a vampiric entity, hoping to partake of their immortality. However, as your books on the subject here rightly point out, it is a gift rarely given, though frequently promised; much like the carrot on a stick before the mule. Yet always mortals are convinced they will be the special one. I pity you. You were a useful tool for this force, but I promise you, he never had any intention of sharing his essence with you. As for your half-brother, it would seem he had more sense, deciding to keep Root for himself rather than hand her over to the entity. Falithe aen Caem was a powerful mage, Arklan, wiser than many of the elves of our day and to his credit, he decided that not risking another Conjunction was the better choice. Although for the sake of my Root here, I'm glad our witcher happened to be involved and happens to be a good man. Which you are not."

The mage spat. "Oh so I'm just such a naughty boy aren't I? Spare me your lectures and moralizing. Kill me and be done with it."

Regis turned to King Foltest, who had been listening patiently to the metaphysical conversation about other worlds, vampiric beings and magic with interest, although not without a great deal of confusion. He was not a magical scholar after all, and wished that his court sorceress, Triss Merigold, was not away on extended leave.

"So you see, your Grace, this man admits to hunting our friend Root solely to turn her over to a vampiric entity existing in another realm. Which would rip open time and space itself, risking disaster for us all. And he was willing to use you and your entire court to get to her. I would also guess that there would be no price too high, nothing he wouldn't sacrifice to gain what his half-brother had but he does not…immortality. In short, Excellency, this pathetic man was jealous. Jealous of the power and talent Falithe had but he didn't. Jealous of the full-blooded elven immortality that he didn't inherit." Regis explained, noting that it wasn't the first time that Root had been the target of jealousy inspired hatred.

Foltest looked at the black haired, half-elven man hanging in manacles on the wall and saw such wickedness in the man's golden eyes as Regis exposed him and his petty emotions for all to see. It was plain as day that Emiel spoke the truth and Arklan burned with hate.

"Master Regis, how do people contact these entities in the first place? Couldn't this lord, whoever he is, reach out and ensnare someone else?" Vernon Roche asked and once again the vampire was impressed by Roche's astute mind and chastised himself for judging him too harshly as a fool upon first meeting him.

"Of course that is a possibility always, my good man. There are many, many realms that float around us in various pockets of time and space, most of them never affecting us in any way. But on occasion, entities do reach out and speak to those residing here. The young wizard or sorceress not yet fully trained who practices beyond their level, the lucid dreamer who travels without proper guidance, and the entranced that slip into a place not sleep yet not awake. And sometimes there are those who deliberately call out to these other places, yes, seeking the usual things, power, glory or in this case eternal life. As for this particular entity, you'd had mentioned hearing him say that he'd been searching for nigh forty years. I'm supposing by that admission that it is no easy thing for him to breach our world and thus needed someone to do his work here, and further, needs someone to open the gate even if they have the proper key on this side. So while possible, I would say that with the death of this man, we should hear very little from this particular being for some time. If ever again." The vampire explained, coming to stand by Geralt and Root.

The mage turned his golden gaze onto the Witcher.

"You just had to have a conscience didn't you, White Wolf? You, who call yourself a witcher, a slayer of monsters. Yet look around you! Here stands a woman born of an unholy union between a filthy beast and a certain breed of vampire. Two of the foulest creatures to pollute our world and you would call her friend!? How dare you stand in judgment over me when you yourself are acting against your very nature, what we created you to be! You're a disgrace. A mutant freak…

But Root had heard enough and she walked toward the man hanging in chains, motioning for both Geralt and Regis to leave her be. She spoke softly and calmly, raising one hand to rest on the face of the mage.

"There is never anything unholy about love."

He was stunned into silence and for a brief moment, she saw a flicker of warmth and she smiled. The mage looked into her green eyes, and swore he saw fields of endless green rolling into a primeval forest shrouded in mist; and waiting for him, an antlered figure.

"You wanted eternal life." She said quietly, stroking his cheek. "I cannot give you that, son of Aen Seidhe. But I can give you eternal rest and peace."

"Thank you." He said, a tear falling from his golden eye.

"Va faill." She whispered.

Root leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead and he died. He simply died. And then she collapsed.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Geralt climbed up onto the drivers' bench of the sturdy new wagon that had been gifted to him and his companions. A new, heavy, black fur cloak was wrapped about his broad shoulders over the freshly cleaned leather maile. This wagon was larger and filled with much firewood, food and other provisions that would keep them all well fed and comfortable for weeks in the bitter cold winter as it settled over Temeria. The old mare Roach was tethered to the side, a warm, new blanket on her back, as a team of mighty draft horses were brought over and harnessed. Yet for all the gifts being given to them for helping to capture the mad mage that had invaded the palace, Foltest demanded they leave immediately and discreetly, not wanting people to see the company and perhaps have memories triggered or ask questions that no one could ever hope to answer. So that same day, at dusk, the wagon was loaded up and Root, still unconscious for reasons no one knew, was laid in the back and covered with furs and blankets.

"Thank you, your Grace, for this abundance of generosity." Regis said, bowing low. "If ever you require the skills of a master herbalist or surgeon, I am your humble servant. Hesitate not to send word for me. My shop is in Dillingen, although it may be sometime before I return there."

The king inclined his head. "Thank you, sir. I shall remember you. I am intrigued by your methods and seemingly miraculous ability to heal. So I must inquire before you depart, are you also a mage?"

Emiel Regis smiled in his mysterious way, with pursed lips, and bowed again. "I am not, Excellency. Just some skills I've picked up in my many years. Must keep some trade secrets. Forgive me."

Dandelion came forward and bowed to the king, and then climbed into the back of the wagon in silence. For he was happy to be leaving with the company, but somewhat sad to be leaving the comforts of the city. That, and Foltest had requested he not return for at least a year. Besides Geralt's, the bard's face was the most memorable and his involvement in anything would be noted. So the poet checked on the sleeping woman, and sat next to her, taking out his lute, strumming quietly. The vampire climbed up next to Geralt, who then gave the team a tap and they lurched forward, the wheels leaving impressions in the snow as they rolled through the west entrance to Vizima.

The Witcher heard a snort off to the left of the wagon, and saw a mighty chestnut stallion approach with the figure of Vernon Roche seated upon it, a heavy woolen cloak about his body for warmth.

"I can at least escort you to the mountain pass, although it will be treacherous this time of year, Geralt. Why go that way?" he asked, riding beside the wagon.

"We're going to travel near the Morhen Valley, along the western side of the mountain range, and this is the most direct route from here. We won't make it into the valley before the paths fill up with snow of course, if they haven't already. But I know a place where the river splits, where the mountain stream flows down. There's decent game in that area, fresh flowing water, and on a clear day we should just be able to make out distant Oxenfurt and make our way to it along the river, passing through the woods on the last leg of the journey." The Witcher said.

"Why there?" Roche asked as they turned off the cobblestone roads of the main city and rumbled down the track of the dirt road leading northwest.

The White Wolf wasn't exactly sure why Oxenfurt was the destination. Originally he'd planned to go there seeking Triss Merigold, a dear friend and sorceress whom he'd hoped would help Root when he'd thought her mind had been imprisoned by Falithe. But that seemed ages ago now, even though in actuality it'd only been about two weeks.

"I'm not sure anymore. Maybe just do a tour of the city? Root would enjoy that, and Dandelion." He said. "Maybe someone will have witcher work there. Who knows?"

"I myself am quite full of city life at the moment." Regis said cheerfully. "I could use a trip to the deep woods to harvest some of the rare winter herbs, roots and other plants. So I for one am glad to be leaving. No offense to your fine city, Vernon. I'm sure you understand."

Roche nodded, still not sure what exactly Regis was. But he would bet his last oren that the herbalist and surgeon was not human, what with being able to become invisible at will and his return to the living after getting a crossbow bolt near the heart. Not to mention him having such a powerful, persuasive will when he witnessed the questioning of Arklan aen Caem. But the veteran soldier and friend to Geralt knew enough that leaving things alone when it came to the witcher's friends and companions was often the best thing.

They traveled quietly through the early evening and Root still slept in the back of the wagon, with Regis becoming more concerned for her by the hour. He had connected to her mind and there was nothing but stillness. And none of them understood what had happened between her and Arklan.

As deep night fell it became far too cold for the Witcher to continue on and so he found a sheltered grove of trees. He, Regis, Dandelion and Roche blanketed the horses, gave them their feedbags, and got a large fire going as well. The vampire went to the back for the cooking pots, and soon the men were sharing a meal of warmed up fish soup, good bread and mugs of hot cider to keep the chill off.

"Pardon me, gentleman, but I am going to retire for bit." Regis said and climbed into the back of the wagon, bringing with him a cup of the hot soup.

Dandelion was not at all accustomed to traveling in the freezing cold and it showed, but he bravely tolerated it. Geralt and Roche on the other hand seemed perfectly comfortable despite the wind, both men having experienced far colder regions and extreme conditions during their years of travel.

Inside the wagon, it was comfortable, warm and pleasant. The heavy flaps were down on all sides, blocking the wind, and a lantern was lit and hanging from the top spine of the structure that held the heavy canvas lined with furs. It wasn't wide enough for all of them sleep inside, so they also had heavy fur tents pitched outside near the fire, but the wagon would easily sleep three with plenty of room on the sides for their provisions, most of which though was stowed beneath them, under the carriage or the drivers' seat. The vampire settled himself next to his love, sitting with his back against the pillows and sipped hot soup from the tin cup while thinking about how good a fine smoke would've been right then.

"Mmm…" Root sighed and finally she opened her eyes. "Regis?"

"Yes, I'm here." He said brushing her cheek, relieved to see her awake.

The woman sat up slowly, glancing around at the new environment and ran a hand through her short brown hair.

"I seem to be acquiring a habit of waking up in strange places." She said, turning to him. "Although no longer in the company of strange men. Where's Geralt and Dandelion?"

"They're outside with Vernon. I'm sure they'll be retiring soon as well. It's quite cold out. His majesty was kind to gift us with this carriage and fresh supplies. We're on our way to Oxenfurt. It'll be a slow journey, and we'll be able to see the countryside. I think it'll be good for us all." He explained, handing her the cup of hot soup. "We needed to depart quickly, but we can talk about that another time. No need right now."

Root wrapped her hands around the tin cup and was grateful for the warmth in her belly. And while she was hungry, she remembered that the last time she tried to eat anything of substance landed her in the palace washroom for an hour. So she wasn't eager to eat much just yet. However, she equally felt a longing for a very different liquid and she wondered if she should say anything about it. And that reminded her of something she'd been resolved to tell Regis about since her thought concerned him, but in particular his vampiric nature.

"Regis, I…I want you to know something. Because…well I don't want you to feel like…Well, you see, ever since Geralt let you know about my…you know…oh dear…" she said and Regis found it sweet that she couldn't even talk about her fantasy without blushing.

He waited patiently, deliberately keeping his eyes from meeting hers until she was able to say what he already knew.

"I love you, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy." She said, with Regis finding it wonderful to hear his full name roll of her lips so beautifully. "Not for any of your abilities. I love you…for you. All of you."

The vampire placed two fingers under her chin and tilted her face to meet his eyes, but he did not charm her, only adored her.

"My abilities are a part of me so you can love them too if you like, my dear lady. But I appreciate you telling me. And I love you Root. My wild forest woman, bound to me…forever." He whispered.

"Forever?" she said, gazing up into his dark eyes. "Is that what you meant by…"

"We have eternity now, my love." He finished for her and nodded. "So long as you are nourished by me, you will not die. There is a consequence to such a sharing, and I had hoped to offer this to you in a far lovelier manner. But such was not our path. I hope this pleases you."

The woman was reflective and curious about the concept of living forever. She'd never once considered such a life, what it might be like; the happiness and sadness that might go along with such an extended stay in the world. But her heart and very soul were so filled with love, a love that went beyond words, that any time in the world spent with Emiel Regis was too short, even eternity.

"It does indeed." She said, nestling against his chest. "And I hope you will share with me some more of your life so far. I would very much like to know more about your past, if you're comfortable sharing it with me that is. But…what did you mean by a consequence?"

"There is a risk, Root." He said softly. "My blood is very old, and very potent. An equivalent that comes to mind is that of a strong narcotic, and I cannot have you become addicted to it. Too much and you won't be able to do or think about much else. I had to let you drink a lot in order to heal you, but most will need to be short erm…feeds, as it were; just enough to satiate you, but not enough that it becomes problematic. And as a physician, your physician and healer to our party, I hope you will trust my guidance and wisdom on this subject."

Root nodded, understanding perfectly and trusting him absolutely. However…

"Is that what I'm feeling right now?" she asked, listening to the wind howl around the wagon, and rustle the canvas. "Oh I do hope the others are staying warm."

"Tell me what you're experiencing; your thoughts."

"Well, it's like wanting your favorite food. Like my father used to make the most fabulous pancakes on the wood stove with his trusty cast iron skillet. Served with homemade whipped cream and fresh berries from the forest. Oh, they were so good! I knew I couldn't have them all the time, but when I could, I couldn't get enough! It feels like that, like a longing for that comfort food." She explained, sipping more of the soup.

The vampire nodded. "Speaking of food, that's fish, by the way. You turned your nose up at it when we went to the market because of how it looked, but its good, yes? And good for you too. As for your, what could be called a, symptom, yes, it would seem you are experiencing a slight, very slight, longing for my blood. No more dangerous than wanting your fathers' pancakes. Everyone has those kinds of cravings, and they're perfectly normal. You just happen to want something most others will never have, or even know about. Nothing to worry about. But do let me know if anything ever changes in that regard alright?"

She nodded her consent and finished her tin cup of soup, pleasantly surprised that she was indeed enjoying the rich broth and pink salmon that had been simmered in it. And then her face became reflective, and she paused a while, contemplating the thought that crossed her mind.

"So, you once told me that you don't drink blood. Would you share with me why?" she asked him.

Regis was silent for a moment and softly rubbed her arm as she relaxed against him comfortably.

"Oh my love, it was so long ago now. I was young and like many a youngster I went to parties. And you know how it is, well…erm actually maybe you don't…curious. Well anyways, like many youth I gave into the peer pressure to drink. Of course at vampire parties we drank blood, which for us is like alcohol. Contrary to legend, hemoglobin is not a food source for us; we don't need it to survive. At least my kind doesn't but perhaps some lesser vampires do. But I digress. So having given into the pressure, I drank and got wildly drunk with all my friends and the vampire girls. Alas one night we got too carried away and I ended up staked, doused with holy water and decapitated before the peasants buried me." Regis explained calmly.

Root slowly sat up, turned and stared at him with her jaw slightly agape. Regis' eyes seemed to have a cat-like glow as the lantern light hit them just so and she noticed for the first time that he didn't cast a shadow.

"I believe I mentioned that we, my kind, are very, very hard to kill. It took me fifty years to regenerate but as you can see I managed it. I've sworn off the drink, blood, ever since. So you see a crossbow bolt is a mere annoyance; even if it'd pierced my heart, been made of blessed wood rubbed with garlic or other such prayerful, folksy item from myth." He said, reaching forward and running a finger down the corner of her mouth. "Say something?"

"You…you must be…oh Regis are you some sort of god?" she asked and he couldn't help but laugh heartily, fangs showing and all. He hugged her to his chest, kissing the top of her head.

"Oh no, least I don't think so, my sweet. Powerful, yes, but I do try to remain humble about it. As Geralt will tell you I'm not prone to showcasing my abilities in a way that would unmask me. Mostly I try and blend in, live my life without much incident, much like everyone else. But of course there have been exceptions, as I'm sure there are exceptions to all things in life, certainties being far rarer than most think."

Root felt a little silly for asking him, but she'd never heard of a being with such power that wasn't some sort of spirit or god. Regis saw her embarrassed look and turned her chin to meet his gaze.

"Forgive me, my love. It was a fine question and I apologize if my mirthful response embarrassed you. But it isn't everyday someone wonders if you're a divine being." He said and stroked his index finger between her eyes, making her blush and smile again. "It is a curious thing though, that you will now drink my blood at times, where as I choose to abstain. Although I will admit, your blood has a wonderful scent and is very tempting. It's a shame that so much of it was spilled on the palace floor."

She gazed up at him, wondering, but chose to remain silent. But the vampire guessed correctly what Root had been thinking.

"I thank you, but no. There may come a time where I cannot refuse an offer, whether yours or another's', but it is not this day. Believe me, my dear; it is not without some effort that I refuse you." He said softly.

She lay again on his chest as he held her. "Your blood is so wonderful, Regis. The taste is…it's like…"

"Hush now. Thinking about it that way only makes the longing more difficult to endure. Now, I had mentioned the market earlier and I believe you have something that you need to give to someone." He said, changing the subject away from blood, his or otherwise.

"Oh! I forgot about Geralt's present! What with everything that happened since then I never gave it to him. I do hope it's here." She said sitting up.

"It is indeed. I packed our things from the smaller cart into this one myself, its right here. If you're feeling up to it, why don't you go give it to him? I think there are some things our Geralt would like to say to you as well. He's been um, very self-critical since your near-death experience and I think talking may help. Oh, and do me a favor and remember this phrase, "No, I don't mind." He said with a strange, sly smile on his handsome face. "Off you go."


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 (Adult, mature sexual content ahead.)

Root dressed herself in the new warm clothing that had been purchased for her, another gift from King Foltest, and wrapped herself in the heavy wool cloak that Regis had bought the same day they'd picked out her necklace and Geralt's gift. She slipped from the back of the wagon and was buffeted by the strong winter wind as she walked around to the fire that was being kept high and strong by Vernon Roche. He nodded to her, but remained silent, not sure what he should say in light of not knowing her well and his witnessing of recent events.

"Good evening, Master Roche." She said, coming to stand by the fire, placing the parcel on one of the log seats, and warming her hands.

Vernon tossed another log onto the flames.

"Vernon is fine. And I do believe this is what qualifies as a formal introduction between us. I'm still feeling some discomfort from our first encounter, and…well, it's been an interesting last few days to say the least. A pleasure to meet you, Root. Or is it Selithlene?" he asked.

Root remembered the beating she gave him in beast form, but she wasn't sorry for it. He'd given her quite a fright and no reason to trust him. But given that he was now traveling with them, she figured he'd played some role in aiding her and her companions with the wizard. In light of that, the woman was content to let bygones be bygones.

"It's Root if you please. I don't know where that other name comes from. It has been interesting. I must admit, much of it is cloudy to me, almost like remembering a dream. One moment I'm ready to greet the king, the next I'm sick in bed, and then the next I'm being arrested for murder and then…" her voice trailed off, not liking to recall the crossbows, the pain, and the memory of thinking Regis had died.

Roche politely said nothing and wrapped his hands around another mug of the hot cider. Root was lost in her thoughts for a bit and then blinked away the memories.

"I see Dandelion and Geralt have already retired to their tents." She said, rubbing her hands, grateful for the warmth.

"Just a short while ago." He replied. "I believe the poet is sound asleep already, but Geralt's lantern appears to be burning."

"If you would indulge me some questions, Vernon, I would appreciate it. I recall you being in the cell during the questioning, but I have no memory of seeing you in the palace at all before...well before all that happened. How is it you came to be there? And why?" Root asked.

Roche wasn't sure what the woman knew, including whether or not Regis had explained to her the events surrounding her being poisoned, and he didn't think it was his place to unfold such things to her. His response was guarded but not unkind.

"I am his majesty's head of special forces; the Blue Stripes are my, his, elite team of professionals. I was at the castle because I live there. The mage was a criminal and I played a role in capturing him so, thus I was at the interrogation." He replied casually.

She nodded, the answer being reasonable.

"Then it would seem I owe you a great deal of thanks, Vernon Roche. You, hardly knowing me, aided my friends and I, no doubt at great risk to yourself. It grieves me deeply that my presence brought such suffering to your home. I am sorry and, thank you." She said quietly as another gust of wind tossed her cloak about her.

Roche inclined his head graciously. "I am but a humble soldier. It's my duty to place myself in danger to protect lord and land. In this case, my liege was in proximity to the events transpiring around you. And while I am glad my skills and intervention helped you, my services and intentions always lie with and for my country first. I hope that doesn't offend you, but that is the truth."

"To be honest, I don't understand the life of a soldier. I've never known duty like yours or loyalty to a nation. But I do understand devotion, and loyalty to friends and family. And I can tell that your devotion to your king runs deep and I appreciate that. And despite the insinuations made by this mage, I am no one important so no, that doesn't offend me at all, Vernon." She said, picking up her parcel. "Do excuse me."

Geralt was sitting in his tent, hunched over a map of the area, and contemplated whether or not they'd be able to make it up the mountain pass, or whether they should remain camped there for another couple days. He knew it'd be windier once they reached the top of the cliffs, the valley that Vizima rested in at least provided some measure of shelter from the worst of the mountain storms. But the sooner they cleared the pass and got on the reasonably straight road to Oxenfurt, the better.

"White Wolf? Are you awake?" Root said over the wind.

He leaned forward and untied the thick cords that kept the tent closed and lifted the heavy fur flap, bristling as the cold winter wind whistled in, stealing much of the warmth. Root quickly crawled into the small space, turned and latched the flaps shut behind her.

"My goodness its cold!" she said turning back to Geralt, who pulled his heavy black fur cloak up over his shoulders.

"Hello, Root." He said pleasantly. "I'm pleased to see you're awake and well."

"As am I. Although I seem to do a lot of sleeping and waking up in different places." She said crawling over to sit near him on the heavy furs. "You are all very tolerant of me that's for sure."

The Witcher smiled, knowing she was right about sleeping a lot, but also knew there were reasons for it.

"We're all happy to have met you, Root. And we don't tolerate you. As if we were looking for the first opportunity to ditch you." He said quietly and she smiled shyly, looking at him from beneath her lashes.

"I…I have something for you. A gift. As a…well, it's so small compared to what I owe you but…I thought of you when I saw it. I mean, Regis bought it because I don't…oh this isn't at all how this conversation went in my head." She said, holding the box in her lap.

Root sighed and collected her thoughts. "I owe you my life, Geralt. I know all this weirdness has happened around me since meeting you but, the truth is, had it been some other witcher sent after me, I don't think we'd be having this conversation. I'd be a sick elfs fetish or if this mage was telling the truth, some cosmic blood key to another dimension. And if it weren't for you I wouldn't know Regis who…well never mind that, I'm sure you know. So, please accept this humble present."

Geralt slipped off his leather gloves and took the box in his hands, unwrapping the colored fabrics.

"This is unnecessary, Root. I would also remind you that it was not I in that cave who could save you from bleeding out. I almost lost…we, almost lost you." He replied, catching himself.

When he looked into the box, the Witcher smiled, and lifted up the hand-carved, wooden wolf figure that had been painted in soft shades of white and gray with silver details. But most exquisitely, the eyes were the color of the yellow harvest moon. On the bottom an inscription had been etched: Gwynbleidd. With love and gratitude. Root.

"Do you like it?" she said, gently biting her lip, her hands clasped in front of her.

Geralt gazed on the forest maiden with her pine green eyes. He thought about how she was so damn adorable, sweet in a way that was completely different from his Yennefer. Yennefer exuded sexiness and power, and reveled in it, knew how to use them with a mastery that few sorceresses could ever hope to match. Even her outfits spoke of a confidence, a surety that she possessed, a personality that she owned and wielded to get whatever she desired from the world. And the White Wolf loved that about her. Yet when the Witcher looked on Root, he saw a woman nearing her fortieth winter with short, uneven brown hair, and most often dressed in humble clothing, with a cloak covering her curvy shape. She knew next to nothing about the violence of the world, war among nations, or politics. Her world was that of the wilds, which had its own laws, its own rules, its own ways and even its own bloodshed and violence but, it was so very different from his world. To him, she was more like a forest spirit, or a dryad. And still he knew there was that side to Root that was coy and playful, even sexy, flirty and teasing. But in some way he couldn't explain, it was different from any other woman he'd met and he knew he wanted a part of that woman.

"You….you're not saying anything, Geralt. Are you…" she said, twirling her fingers nervously.

He turned his golden, glittering witcher eyes onto her and smiled in such a way that he could tell made her flutter. Root flushed pink and felt herself get warm and tingly in places beneath the winter clothing.

"I um…I'm guessing that look means you like it?" she said, shyly biting her lip again.

He slowly rose to his knees, unclasped the cloak and let it fall, gazing into her eyes, holding her in their golden depths. Root was trembling but she was trying to hide it as the Witcher slipped off his medium gambeson and then the lighter undershirt beneath it. Her eyes were drawn to the scars that marred his body, there were many. Hesitantly, she reached for him but pulled back; remembering when they had lain together and he'd stopped her from touching him. But this time he took both her hands in his, softly kissed her fingers, and laid them on his chest. Root allowed her fingers to trace his wounds, rising to her knees in front of him, his muscles flexing as she passed over his toned stomach. Geralt slipped his hand up into the short hair at the nape of her neck and gently pulled her head back.

"You've eluded me for far too long, my prey." He said in his gravelly voice, slipping a long skinning knife from the back of his belt.

Root's eyes dilated, a look the great hunter recognized as that of a creature frozen by fear. So he turned the blade in his hand and rested the flat of it against his wrist, holding it with his thumb, and raised his four fingers to her face, softly stroking the bridge of her nose so she could see the weapon still held in his palm. He then leaned forward, rested his forehead on hers and growled fiercely, an intense sound he used when battling monsters to frighten them or catch them off guard. It had just the effect he wanted, Root's eyes slipped closed and she fainted into his embrace.

After a short time, she came to and found herself lying comfortably, and naked, on the warm furs lining Geralt's tent. She turned, and the White Wolf was lying on his side, also beautifully naked, with a very pleased grin on his face but now with a soft look in his golden eyes. She then understood what Regis had wanted to communicate to her earlier with his words.

 _He doesn't mind!_ She thought excitedly.

"Did I frighten you that badly?" Geralt whispered.

"He doesn't mind!" she cried and crawled to him.

The Witcher hardly had a moment to blink before she was on top of him, her mouth locked onto his, kissing him with such an intense passion that it took him a moment to respond. But respond he did, sitting up and resting her on his lap, devouring her mouth, his hands holding her, tracing her spine.

"Oh spirits of the field and forest, I want you…I've wanted you for so long…" she said between breaths, her hands tracing his perfect if scarred body. "I want to be your prey, want you to capture me."

Root's soft breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples firm and aching and she could feel his hardness near her. She wrapped her hands into his white hair and softly clawed the back of his skull, tonguing him deeply. Geralt turned his body and held her down on the furs, one hand gliding to her breast, rolling the nipple, while his mouth found her neck and softly bit, making her cry out. He knew that was something Regis would never do, couldn't do without seriously harming her, but he could do so and he knew she wanted it. Knew it was part of her fantasies.

"Yes…" she said breathlessly. "Again….please…"

Geralt growled into her ear and she panted, begging him, so he bit her again, holding her flesh for just a moment longer, and leaving a small welt. Her cry of pleasure was intense and she gripped his shoulders.

"I am no vampire, Root. But I am going to consume you." he whispered to her and began kissing his way down her body.

Her hips rocked, raising, aching, needing, wanting…

"Yes…yes…yes…YES….YES! Geralt!" she cried as his mouth found her precious nub and his thumb slipped deep inside her as he feasted on her femininity.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Outside the wind had begun to die down as the night wore on and Emiel Regis came to the fire with a kettle of water for tea.

"Good evening, Vernon. How are things?" Regis said kindly, acting as if he didn't hear the loud sounds of passionate sex coming from Geralt's tent.

Roche gave him a sideways look and nodded, clearly more than a little embarrassed by what he was hearing.

"All is well, my good man." He said, clearing his throat. "The weather is clearing up."

The vampire found it amusing that of all things Vernon would comment on that it'd be the weather. But Regis knew that not everyone was as open about sex as the next person.

"Ahh let's see, oh I have sprig of pine yet, that'll be good with these rose hips and chamomile flowers. Did you want some tea, Vernon? I can get a second cup if you like." Regis said glancing up at the soldier.

Vernon turned and gave Regis a very confused look.

"Yes?" he said, already knowing what Roche was going to say.

"Look, man, I saw you and Root together in the grand hall. I watched you dance with her, and I've seen how she looks at you. How can you sit here knowing what Geralt is doing to her?" Roche asked, somewhat exasperated.

"Because she loves him." Regis answered. "And he loves her. And Geralt isn't doing anything to her per se; it sounds to me like they're doing it together."

"But…" Vernon began, looking at Dandelion who crawled out of his tent, wrapping his cloak about his shoulders.

"Greetings, Dandelion." Regis said, but then turned back to Roche. "My good sir, sexual desire, or love for that matter, doesn't always stop at one person. I realize that for many that is so, but not all. Our Root here has grown up in the wild, with Nature, surrounded by all sorts of creatures who are not monogamous. Being with one person is as foreign to her as being with multiple partners seems to be to you. Although to be fair, she's aware of the popular custom. And if it puts your mind at ease, I've given both her and Geralt my consent." Regis explained nodding to the poet.

"I suppose I better take a turn at watch." The bard said with a yawn and a stretch, turning his head as Root cried out. "Is that? Oh good! Finally! The tension between those two was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Hey, Regis, you don't happen to have anything for a headache do you?"

"I may just. Let me check." He said and walked to the storage tucked under the wagon where he kept his herbal wares and bottles.

Dandelion gave Vernon a nod. "Hey, Roche. What's nagging you?"

"Nothing." Vernon said, crossing his arms.

Another loud cry from Root made the soldier clear his throat and Dandelion had to chuckle.

"Oh that? What's bothering you about that? Geralt's bedded loads of women. I mean yeah sure usually at an inn or whatever, but you hear those kinds of noises all the time. You're a traveling man, Vernon, I'm sure you've heard wild sex before. What's the big deal?" the bard asked as Regis handed him what looked like a piece of tree bark.

"Chew this in small pieces but don't swallow them, just the juices. That should help." The healer said and checked on his tea kettle. "Ah perfect."

Vernon rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not a big deal that…I mean yes I know about…Look, I was just concerned that Regis maybe was…"

"And I appreciate it, Vernon. Let me be clear. I understand the norms surrounding sexual activity and can admire some of the beautiful unions that come from certain practices among exclusive couples. In a normative situation, you would be right to be concerned, and asking me about it would be admirable. Even admonishing me for seeming indifferent could be seen as virtuous. So in no way am I, nor Dandelion I would wager, making light of your own personally held views or feelings. But as I'm sure you've guessed, Geralt, Root, myself and Dandelion do not fall into the categories laid out by many cultures." Regis explained, packing his wooden pipe with a smoking blend.

After that explanation, Vernon nodded his head and felt more comfortable knowing that truly Regis was not at all bothered by what was going on. So he looked over to the poet who was chewing the headache bark while standing by the fire to keep warm.

"So what about you? Do you want to bed her as well?" Roche asked.

"Oh goodness wouldn't I like to!" he said with a sly smile. "But I doubt it's in the cards as they say. Yeah sure she likes how I dress and all, and I've laid on the charm. But alas no, I think the v…

"Barber-surgeon and herbalist." Regis interrupted, giving Dandelion a stern, quick look.

"…and the Witcher have claimed her." The poet finished, recovering from his almost blunder.

"Well, claimed is a bit strong, Dandelion." Regis said, lighting his pipe with a bit of stick and drawing on it deeply, exhaling a cloud of sweet smelling spice. "Oh my, it's been too long. Smoke, Vernon?"

"Sure." Roche replied, accepting the second pipe and small sack of herbs to pack it.

"As I was saying, claimed is a bit strong. I promise you, Root has consented to everything, even as she…well, ahem, I shouldn't say more on that." He said, sipping his tea.

"You lot are strange, do you know that?" Vernon said shaking his head, lighting the pipe.

And the three gentlemen all shared a hearty laugh, a smoke and passed around the kettle of tea.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 (Adult, very mature and graphic sexual content ahead.)

The White Wolf slid his thick, solid cock deep into Root's warmth in a very slow, rhythmic motion while both her ankles rested on his shoulders, rocking her body slowly, lifting her bottom which glistened with wetness, and causing her eyes to slip closed and moans of pleasure to escape her with each thrust. She was nearly exhausted, the Witcher having made her climax several times already and he never once, holding himself back with masterful, practiced patience and endurance. He kissed her ankles, slowly lowered them to the ground and slipped from her wetness. She pouted at him and he grinned.

"You're insatiable." He teased. "Roll over."

Root obeyed, raising her hips, and he mounted her, gliding back into her waiting smoothness and circling her other opening with his fingers which caused her to gasp.

"Shh…" he said softly, "Just relax, you'll love this I promise."

With infinite patience, he teased, pressed, stretched, opened and at last entered her bottom with just the tip of his smallest finger, causing her to sigh into the pillow as he probed her. He then increased his thrust, holding a finger inside her, and felt himself tensing, his body needing to release. She moaned, cried, screamed, and called his name as he thrust harder and faster, deeper into her, his hips slapping her bottom, her vagina so wet and slick that the furs were damp from multiple orgasms. Root felt him tense, ready to come inside her, so she rubbed her engorged clit that she might climax at the same time as he did. The Witcher thrust once more and shuddered, holding himself inside her, slipping his finger out of her bottom so that both hands could grip her hips, and Root felt his warm cream fill her and overflow down her aching thighs, dripping from her as her own muscles tightened, spasmed and held him deep inside. Her cry of pleasure would've awakened half of Vizima.

He grunted, thrusting until he had little energy left and his load had been utterly spent. Geralt then lowered her hips and rolled to her side, pulling her to his chest as she curled into him, her body limp from the sheer ecstasy of uncounted climaxes.

"Sleep, my Root." He said softly, his own eyes becoming heavy as well.

But sleep was already upon her as her hands rested lightly against his chest. And then he too passed into sleep, satisfied, warm and knowing he was loved by the forest maiden.

* * *

Root saw the riders bearing down on her friends and raced ahead, her bare feet sure and confident as they touched the forest floor. She shifted into her werewolf form smoothly, leapt over a boulder and landed on all fours as the riders reigned up their horses. The central figure looked down upon the fierce beast snarling at them, challenging him by placing herself between himself and her companions. The sightless eyes of the skull helm stared down at her while his giant warhorse stamped its hooves, the other two riders flanking him silently.

"You're either very ignorant, very foolish or very brave to stand against the Wild Hunt, luned bleidd." Spoke the voice from within. "Yet you are fearless where others would tremble. And you are familiar to me. Your eyes like the great pines give you away."

Root growled, her gaze wandering between the three armored riders of legend. She knew them, had seen them before, always from a distance, while living in the heart of the forest with her father. During the coldest winters, she would hear the sound of hooves pounding the frozen ground and the Hunt would pass by, pursuing their quarry. Her father had warned her to always stay out of their path, lest they capture her and force her into service as one of their dread hounds. But she would not stand aside and let her friends die or become slaves.

"Ah yes, you cannot talk in that form." He said, dismounting from his steed. "Speak with me, daughter of the wolf. I am impressed by your boldness. My generals will not harm you or your friends without my command."

Root shifted back, standing shamelessly before him. Nude and glorious, like a wild forest spirit guarding her realm. The rider removed his helm, tucked it under his arm and there stood Eredin Breacc Glas, King of the Wild Hunt, Lord of Nightmares, and lord of the Aen Elle.

"Ceadmil, luned bleidd. Essaeth ensh'eass." Eredin said, complimenting her with a polite incline of his head. "You've grown into quite the attractive woman."

The forest maiden gave him a courteous bow, recognizing his majesty, dreadful and terrible as it was to look upon, for he was a ruler of his own realm.

"Hael, Ruadhri. How would you know me?" she asked, curious but wary, glancing as the other two riders dismounted, one of them bearing a magical staff that glowed a radiant blue.

"You are the very image of your father, in this form and the other. How is he now that he's served his time? Still living in the woodland cottage?" Eredin asked, masking his reaction to her unguarded shock.

"What?!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean served his time?"

The king resisted the urge to smile. "He never told you? Well, how did you think he met your mother, seeing as her kind isn't from this world? Oh…I see you didn't know that either. Well, let me inform you then. One full moon we came across your mighty father and enslaved him. In our travels to other realms to collect yet more slaves, we captured your mother. And, well they fell in love. Some things you just cannot beat out of the help. Anyways, when she got pregnant, he pleaded with me to free them so…I did."

Root was starting to feel very uncomfortable and slowly began backing away. The King of the Hunt smiled at her, a look that made her stomach turn.

"No one ever escapes the Hunt. You…you wouldn't just let them go." She said, fear creeping up into her voice, her confidence melting away as he stalked forward.

"You're quite right, daughter of Curamil. But we have been known to engage in trade. I know you saw us in the woods. Did you not ever wonder why we simply passed by your home? A deal is a deal. Your father had been freed. And you were too young." He said with a wicked grin.

"What was the trade?" she said, her body starting to tremble, her gaze riveted on the elven lord as he slipped his helm back on.

"You, my dear. Their firstborn child. Ah, I'm sure they meant to keep you from me but alas your mother died birthing you. And your poor father fell ill and so could no longer keep you on the move. We just had to wait for him to die and catch up with you on our next pass through this realm. And here we are. Bind and collar her." he ordered.

Root commanded her body and shifted, roaring her anger, but the King was not fooled; there was fear in her green eyes.

"Yes! Even better that you take that form." He said, nodding to a figure behind her.

Root turned and without her knowing it, the other two riders had moved behind her. The mighty Imlerith gripped her arms and kicked the back of her knees, forcing her down while Caranthir lowered a heavy iron collar around her neck, snapping it into place. The Navigator of the Hunt then raised his staff and blue light ignited the night, the collar also lighting up with a ring of light the same color as the staff. Root roared and struggled, but the Commander was powerful and held her securely. The King approached, standing beside Caranthir, who lowered the staff to shine it in her eyes.

"You will serve." He said evilly, watching the will drain out of her and into the staff, her once green eyes becoming glowing, pupil-less, icy blue orbs that matched those of their dread hounds. "You may release her, Imlerith."

The werewolf fell to her four paws, not accustomed to the weight of the collar on her neck.

"Rise." Eredin commanded, and she obeyed the Master of the Hunt, standing on her hind legs, with head lowered. "Now. Kill them."

And Root turned on her friends without a second thought and unsheathed her claws.

* * *

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Root screamed.

Geralt bolted awake to find Root thrashing in her sleep, clawing at her neck, screaming incoherently.

"Root, wake up!" he said, shaking her, but to no avail. "Shit!"

Geralt had just flung open the tent flap when a loud roar filled the hours of the early morning. Regis was next to him in a flash since he was on watch. Both men backed away as the werewolf thrashed around inside the tent before finally ripping the canvas with her claws as if it were nothing more than parchment. The vampire closed his eyes and connected to her mind, seeing her dream unfold before him as if he'd gone back in time. And he swore the Navigator locked eyes with him. And then he saw her present intentions and leapt right to her side, holding her large furred form in his strong grip.

"No, no you don't. It's a dream, Root! Wake up!" he said.

"Get it off!" she cried, shifting back to her human form as she became more awake. "Get if off! I can't stand it! Please! I…I won't…I won't serve…"

Geralt looked to Regis and the vampire gave him a very concerned look. The Witcher came and crouched next to her, holding her hands away from her face.

"What did you see!?" he demanded a little more harshly then he meant to. "Answer me, Root! Who won't you serve?"

"They announce themselves in omens and dreams first." Regis said quietly, holding a sobbing, shivering Root in his arms. "You know who she means. Now whether any of the information revealed is true, we don't know. But…it was them. The time mage, Caranthir, looked at me when I connected to her mind."

"What did she dream?" Geralt asked.

"Patience, friend." He said quietly. "They aren't on her heels just yet. She'll tell us when she's ready."

Regis soothed her and finally she calmed down and just cried quietly while he picked her up and brought her into the back of the wagon.

"I don't want to sleep, Regis. Please…please don't make me." She said, her voice breaking.

"I won't, my love. I promise." He said sitting next to her as Geralt too climbed into the wagon.

Regis covered her shivering body with blankets and held her close.

"I am…I am so worthless to you all. Why…why do you keep me here? I should…I should just…" she said.

"Stop that." Regis said firmly, which surprised the Witcher to hear his friend speak that way to her. "If you were worthless Eredin wouldn't give one whit about you. He's brutal but not a fool."

Root looked up at him, shocked by his tone, which is what he wanted. To snap her out of the state she was in. Regis held her hands, and softened his voice and face.

"There. Now you're with us. You were still a tiny bit in the dream state, my dear. I'm sorry to have spoken to you so harshly but it was necessary. You are not worthless. That's what they'd want you to think. They'd want you to run away. Don't you see, my dear? Alone, you cannot hope to stand against them. But as I said the king is no fool; he won't risk a confrontation for what he considers a minor collection of payment. If what you dreamt of has any truth to it. But he will, it would seem, enter your dreams if he can. We'll have to find you some magical protection from their influence." He explained stroking her hands.

The forest maiden blinked away the last bit of sleep that clung to her and was fully present and awake.

"I…I used to see them when I was young. In the deepest, coldest parts of winter they would come through the woods. Father would tell me the folklore surrounding them. He knew the name of their sovereign and those of his generals; knew things about the Wild Hunt that seemed more than folklore. I just figured he was a good storyteller, that it was like one of Dandelion's stories, embellished but some truth to it. Oh! Dandelion and Vernon! Are they alright?" she said.

Geralt placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure they're a little shaken by your mighty roar, Root. But they'll recover. And I…I'm sorry I was harsh earlier. I was just…concerned. Again, not great with words sometimes."

"I can't even get a single day away from one disaster before something else crazy happens around me." Root complained, wiping her eyes. "I just…I would just like things to be normal."

"Trust me, Root, you don't want that." Geralt said quietly. "Yes, it's been weird. I'll be honest, it's really weird the shit that's happened since crossing paths with you. But I know I'm not alone in thinking and feeling that I've met an amazing person, unique in this world. And I wouldn't trade it for anything fucking normal. You hear me? You are what you are, and your life is what it is; shit, fuck ups, weirdness and all. We'll figure this out too. As Regis said, it was a dream and we don't know how much, if any of it, is even true."

The vampire gave his friend a nod. "Not great with words my eye. Well said, Geralt."

"Here. Wear this for now." Geralt said.

And before she could protest the Witcher slipped his wolf medallion necklace over her head. "I will want it back, but that will keep you safe from them for now. Once we reach Oxenfurt, we may be able to acquire another talisman of protection for you."

"And I will gather some hawthorn and make a plant charm for you to have and keep under your pillow. That will keep the dreams away as well." Regis said, glancing at the Witcher.

Root gazed at the two men she loved and kissed first her Regis, leaning into him and enjoying how he smelled of woodsmoke and herbs, and second Geralt, running her hand through his white hair, adoring his strong scent like vintage leather.

"Are you ready to go back to sleep?" Regis asked her.

"Yes, but…will you both stay with me?" she asked, pulling one of Regis' shirts from the small chest next to the sleeping area and throwing it over her body.

"We will. Of course." Geralt said.

And both of her loves sat on either side of the woman and covered her as she got comfortable and rested. Regis read a book and Geralt whittled a piece of wood and soon they heard her light snoring. No dreams troubled her and in one hand she held the wolf medallion and in her other the vampire's own.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

The rest of the early morning passed quietly, with Vernon once more on watch, having been sharply awakened by the werewolf. Since he couldn't fall back to sleep, he'd gotten up and began tending to their fire, making sure it stayed well fueled to keep the party warm and cook their breakfast. Roche was a practical man, a soldier, and he liked things orderly and sensible. He didn't care for conversations surrounding things that seemed unreal or not possible, although recent events were beginning to convince him that there may be some value to them. Still he figured such matters were left to men like Emiel Regis, who clearly was very intelligent and sharp, and the Witcher, who knew much magical and monster lore, even if some of it was on the folk-side of things and not the more academic sorcery or scholarship. He didn't hear much of what was said last night before the physician had brought Root into the wagon. But he was convinced that it was time for him to leave. It wasn't that Vernon didn't care about his companions, but rather he knew that his skill set was not at all qualified to deal with the events that surrounded the Witcher and his friends. At least not at that time.

As dawn came and the radiant sun shed its first rays of golden light onto the world, the trees shimmered with ice and frost. The blustery storm that had buffeted them last night had left its mark on the world around them and Vernon considered how beautiful the result was, even as it had nearly chilled them.

"Oh great, now I'm starting to blather about shit like that." He mumbled to himself and glanced over as Root jumped down from the wagon dressed in heavy winter clothing; a fur trimmed full cloak with hood and thick mittens.

She saw him and averted her eyes, no doubt feeling embarrassed over what he'd seen and heard, and she walked a ways off into the woods behind a tree. Shortly after followed Geralt and Regis, they too dressed warmly. Regis went right to the provisions storage under the wagon for his kettle, and the Witcher slid a recurve hunting bow from under the wagon bench and a quiver full of arrows. He then left silently, found a game trail and vanished into the snowy forest.

"Ah good morning, Vernon" Regis said pleasantly, setting the kettle on to boil. "If you don't mind me saying so, you look dreadful. I'm supposing you didn't sleep well?"

"You suppose right, Emiel. Is she…is she alright?" he asked, checking to see if Root was heading back.

Regis wasn't entirely sure how to answer that question. Of course Root was fine as far as her health and physical well-being. But as for other things of a magical or metaphysical nature, well as Geralt had put it, "weird shit" did seem to follow her, along with, it would seem, the riders of the Wild Hunt.

"In every way possible she is fine, more than fine. But there are things…erm, surrounding her that are, well it would seem, more than a little troubling. However, it is to be celebrated that at least one of those things is no longer an issue." Regis said, dropping his herbs into the boiling water.

Roche nodded. "What did she do the elf? He just…died. I don't understand how she did that, nor why. You had to have seen the look on his face. One minute that man would've killed us in a blink. And the next he's smiling and in tears."

Regis looked a long time into the fire, considering his words. The wood popped and snapped, sending sparks into the morning sky. And he remembered what she'd said, _There is never anything unholy about love._ And he smiled, swelling with admiration and love for her simple but often surprisingly profound statements.

"I don't know what she did exactly. But it would seem our Root doesn't either. She hasn't mentioned it to us and I'm supposing it's because she doesn't remember. If I had to wager an opinion, I would say the unique nature of her vampirism gives her some measure of control over the force of death. As to how it works, its mechanism, I do not know. I am not…of the same kind as she." Regis said looking over to Vernon whose eyes lit with understanding. "I figured it's time you knew. Now you know why I stand here today rather than lie dead from a bolt to the chest. Now you know how I made Arklan aen Caem talk. But I shall say no more. Ask Geralt sometime if you'd like to know more about the myths and truths of my people. And I would appreciate your silence concerning this."

Vernon nodded his head. "Of course, my good man, and thank you. I would never have pried, although I suspected you were something…other."

"You'd be a fool not to suspect, friend, after what you've seen and heard. I can see why Geralt enjoys your company. You're direct and honest, something refreshing to find in the world. And I'm very pleased to have met you, even though our first meeting was…well, a little less than friendly. Tea?" he said, pouring for the both of them.

After doing her business in the woods, Root came to camp and stood by the warm fire with Vernon and Regis, who chatted pleasantly about Vizima, Temeria, and its history. Something Roche knew a lot of and history being of interest to the long-lived vampire. So she began to busy herself over at the wagon, finding the retractable table and placing its now unfolded legs into the snow, and then ladening it with a bag of flour, eggs, milk, heavy cream, mixing bowls, skillets, spatulas and spoons.

"He really did set us up good." She said happily, thinking of King Foltest and his generous gift. And it reminded her that she needed to inquire later about what had happened after the interrogation. "Now if only we had…ah, sugar."

Root felt a warm body behind her and inhaled the lovely scent of herbs as Regis' arms embraced her. "Good morning, my love." He said, kissing behind her ear.

"Mmm. Ceadmil, me minne." She replied in the elder speech, leaning into him.

"You are cheerful this morning and my heart rejoices to see it. Can I be of assistance?" he asked.

She shook her head and started measuring the flour into the mixing bowls.

"No, thank you. I want to help more, beginning with a good breakfast old fashioned style. It's time I had enough of this weirdness and get down to being a valuable member of this group." She said kindly, brushing off her hands and cracking the eggs.

Regis hugged her. "You always have been valuable, Root, weirdness and all. As you wish. I'm here if you need me."

The Witcher returned to camp and was greeted by the delicious aroma of sizzling eggs and griddle cakes cooked on hot iron with butter and his stomach growled. He nodded to the company and set about packing the already field-dressed and butchered meat from a couple of snow hares into the cold chest under the carriage. He had to admit that the craftsmanship of the wagon was exquisite and had to be of gnomish make, because there were so many compartments, tables, bins, drawers and other things cleverly tucked and hidden all over it. And yet everything slid together perfectly when packed and ready to roll. It was a marvel and he was grateful for the kingly gift.

"Good morning, White Wolf." He heard Root say next to him and he turned to see a very happy woman looking back at him, her green eyes bright and full of life.

"Good morning to you. You are…is that?" he said, pointing at the object in her hands.

"Coffee." She said with a grin, handing him the steaming mug filled with the brew she'd found in the wagon. "There's more in the percolator on the fire."

"Oh, you lovely woman." He said accepting it gratefully into his chilled hands.

The company enjoyed a huge, filling breakfast and soon all of them were stuffed to the point of bursting, sitting around the fire as Root insisted on cleaning everything herself and thus was at the wagon. Dandelion was wrapped warmly in his fur cloak and sat strumming a lute, while Regis puffed on a pipe and Vernon and Geralt talked quietly. Yet as morning rolled into the afternoon, Vernon knew it was time for him to say goodbye and head back to his liege.

"Well, friends, I think this where I need to be going." He began, rising. "I had intended on getting you through the mountain pass but I believe, in light of recent knowledge," he said glancing at Regis, who nodded, drawing on his pipe. "That you are all in fact well protected. His Grace, on the other hand, is without his commander and my men will need some explanations. Don't worry; I will be sure to word things…carefully."

"Safe journey to you, Vernon." Regis said. "May we meet again one day."

"Keep all the ladies in Vizima well pleased for me will you?" Dandelion said, a slight pout on his handsome face. "Since I won't be back there for at least a year."

Roche rolled his eyes and clasped forearms with Geralt, who clapped him on the arm.

"Farewell, Vernon. And thank you for everything." The Witcher said with a nod.

"White Wolf." He said, turning at last to Root, who was finishing packing away the kitchen, sliding the table in and latching everything securely.

The forest maiden wiped her hands on a flour sack towel and tossed it on her shoulder as he approached. She was so changed from the terrified woman he'd heard scream her throat raw last night, and he wondered what could've transpired to bring it about. Vernon gazed at her and, without realizing it, touched her face with his gloved hand. Root, surprised by the show of affection, blushed and blinked shyly. Roche on the other hand had gotten lost in wild green eyes framed by short brown hair, her beautiful face staring back at him from a fur lined hood.

Regis, Geralt and Dandelion all remained silent. They knew Roche had fallen for her too, as they all had in their own ways.

"I…I have to leave. And yet… suddenly I don't want to. Why?" he asked, stepping closer. "Is it…something you're doing?"

Root was confused by the question. "I don't understand, Vernon. Of course I'd not do anything to stop you from doing what you need or want."

The soldier leaned forward, wanting so badly to know the mouth that spoke to him. But Root shyly lowered her face, not realizing the effect she had on people, as Regis had once pointed out to Geralt.

"Vernon…" she said, flushing pink while fidgeting with her fingers.

And then he seemed to come back to himself, blinking a few times and was stunned to see how close he was to her, his hand still touching her face. He let his hand down slowly and stepped away, a kind smile brightening his features, one of the few she'd seen since meeting him.

"Farewell, Root. I pray you will remember Vernon Roche fondly and not as the man who held you at knife point in the darkness." He said, inclining his head respectfully and then turned.

"Keep the stallion, Geralt." He said with a wave, passing by the Witcher. "There's a garrison not too far away; I'll pick up another there. Farewell."

The Witcher nodded and watched as the soldier began his walk back toward Vizima. When he'd turned, Root had run to the back of the wagon and climbed inside.

"Well what is she on about…" Dandelion began, his fingers then missing the string on his lute, which made an off-key sound.

The huge brown furred werewolf rushed past them all, leaving snowy paw prints, and soon caught up with Vernon, knocking him right into a fluffy snowdrift. As he sat up, she was sitting on her back legs, innocently giving him a toothy grin, her wide, long ears sticking straight out to the sides. That is until a large snowball dusted the side of her canine head and she turned.

"Come on! Bring it!" Dandelion said, forming another one in his hands. "Oh, crap…"

Root dashed after the bard as he ran away, laughing joyfully and screaming for Geralt to save him, but the Witcher too got in on it and hurled a snowball at the poet as the werewolf toppled him into the snow.

"Dogpile! Well…" Dandelion said, leaping onto the werewolf's shoulders, but with a quick movement she tossed the bard over her head and into the snow.

His fushia colored hat was all that was visible when he poked his head up from the drift, as Root turned and began burying him. Vernon got up, brushed himself off and looked back at the happy company playing in the snow next to their tiny home on wheels. He felt much better about leaving and waved another goodbye. Root stood, took a long, deep breath, raised her muzzle to the sky and howled. Roche grinned as he walked on. Hearing it echo off the mountains, he knew no creature for miles would trouble him on the road after hearing the power in that bestial voice.

"Ahh that feels good." Dandelion said, getting up and brushing the snow from his clothes. "Hey, where's Regis?"

Geralt, Dandelion and Root all looked around and saw no sign of their vampire companion. That is until the Witcher heard the crunch of snow underfoot and saw footprints being made by an invisible stalker. Geralt bent down, picked up a mound of snow, made ready to chuck it, but had his scarred face blasted with a snowball first.

"Ahahaha! Nice one, Regis! He really is the white wolf now!" Dandelion laughed, but then he too got a mouthful of snow.

Root honed in on where the vampire was and leapt, pinning him, and he appeared beneath her, dropping the invisibility. But Regis was of course massively strong and easily pushed her away, tossing a snowball into her muzzle. She shook her head and dashed after the Witcher, tripping him into the snow while the bard returned fire at the vampire. And they were merry that day, forgetting about the Hunt, curses or anything to do with pain or suffering.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

As the sun began to set, Root unfolded and rolled out the kitchen unit from the carriage and began preparing dinner while Geralt took over the duty of keeping the fire fed. Dandelion found himself looking at the shredded remains of Geralt's fur tent and set about putting things away and folding the usable furs into the storage chests. The broken parts that were burnable he tossed into the fire. Regis returned from a walk in woods, having gone to gather some of the winter plants and roots that he was low on, including some hawthorn berries and a thorny hawthorn branch.

Root served them all a hot meal of roasted rosemary potatoes, crispy bacon wrapped rabbit, roasted winter vegetables and had just finished putting the final touches on an apple cobbler, setting the covered dish on the cooking grate to warm it up. Soon the early evening was filled with the scent of baked apples drenched in brown sugar and cinnamon, and of course coffee for Geralt and tea for Regis. The three men relaxed in comfort as the waxing moon began its slow climb up the horizon on a crystal clear, calm night bejeweled with stars. The forest maiden cleaned up dinner, packed away the kitchen, slipped on her mittens and settled herself next to Regis who wrapped his arm around her while enjoying an after-dinner smoke.

"Oh gods, I can hardly move." Dandelion said, his hand resting on a full belly. "My goodness, Root, you are quite the cook."

She smiled kindly and nodded graciously. "Father was a good teacher, and his majesty generous in his gifts. It's been a long time since I had such a full larder to cook from. My own humble shack mostly stored essentials. And well…I'd gotten quite used to eating…um…raw food."

"Speaking of the gods," Regis began. "May I ask you a question, Dandelion?"

"Oh, here we go…" grumbled the Witcher with a roll of his eyes. "I'm having a piss."

And Geralt walked off into the woods.

"Of course. You have to ask me that? Come on, I generally can't shut up when you get me going. You know that." The poet replied.

"It is a question of a most personal nature, and no offense taken if you decline to reply. I was wondering, are you a spiritual man? A man of religion?" Regis asked.

"Well…huh, that's…a good question. You know honestly I think the gods are real. But…what they do exactly and what role they play in my life, I really don't know to be honest. I mean sure the Eternal Fire people tend to see someone of my umm…particular persuasions as a bit a naughty so…I guess that god doesn't care for me? But…yeah honestly I don't know." The bard replied. "What about you?"

Regis nodded. "I'm about the same. I've seen much in my many years to convince me that such beings we call gods do exist. But I'm inclined to believe they have their own motivations and purposes that may or may not be in conjunction with ours. What about you, Root?"

The Witcher came back to the fire and Root passed him a freshly poured cup of coffee, which he accepted with a nod.

"I had a relationship with the leshen that shared its land with my father." She began, with the White Wolf nearly spilling his coffee as he sputtered mid-sip.

"What?" she asked, sipping her tea.

"Did I hear you right?" Geralt asked. "A leshen?"

"Yes. Why is that shocking?" she said.

"What's a leshen?" Dandelion asked, plucking the strings of a small harp.

"What kind of relationship, my dear?" Regis asked, softly rubbing her back.

"I would bring it offerings from kills, along with some of the first fruits of the harvest during autumn, and leave them deep in the forest on a large stone slab that we'd use as an altar. We wanted it to know that we recognized its presence, and its protection of the forest and its beings. And well, being that father and I shared in the blood of the wolf, the leshen didn't seem to mind us sharing its land. I only saw it a few times, but it was beautiful. I miss it." Root said, her voice filled with memory.

"That is amazing, Root. I've heard of people with such practices but never met any. Thank you for sharing that." Regis said, glancing at the Witcher who was still trying to wrap his head around the concept.

"Excuse me but, what's a leshen?" the bard asked again.

Regis and Root looked to the white haired expert sitting by the fire, his thoughts having traveled to a time when he'd fought and banished a leshen as part of witcher's work to make some coin. He'd thought nothing of it at the time, but since meeting Root, he'd begun to question a lot of his beliefs and doings. But he could feel them wanting a reply, so he sipped his coffee and shook away the nagging, self-critical thoughts gnawing at him.

"A leshen is an ancient type of forest spirit. They rarely stray from their territories, which are deep, deep woodland and primeval forests. Usually the kinds of places you won't find humans. They tend to be benign to fellow forest dwellers, even being known to heal injured animals. But, in general, leshen are not fond of humans, elves or others who violate their boundaries. They're fiercely protective, and can call on wolves and other allies to aid them in driving away a threat. In a way, you kind of remind me of a leshen, Root. You're more like a wild spirit than…well, anything else." He said. "Well minus the deer skull for a head and a body that looks like a walking tree."

"You worshiped something like that, Root?" Dandelion asked, looking at the forest maiden. "And Geralt, to be fair, Root doesn't dislike humans or anyone else."

"I know what Geralt meant, Dandelion, it's OK. And I'm honored to be thought of in such a way. The leshen are great guardians of the wild places and I would guess that when the rage takes me, I can be just as menacing as they can be. And I am fiercely protective of those I love." She said and smiled when Regis leaned down and kissed her head. "I'd say I had a relationship with it. Whether or not what we did counts as worship I don't really know. I know nothing of other practices or faiths. If what you mean is did I think of the leshen as greater than myself, a creator type being, or something akin to that then no, I didn't worship it. I…lived alongside it, mutually sharing a space, respectful of each other's boundaries."

"And you, White Wolf?" Root asked yawning. "Are you spiritual?"

"I'm sitting that one out, Root. Sorry but, I don't care for topics like this." He said, sipping the brew.

She nodded. "Fair enough. So…may I ask a question of the group?"

The three men all looked to her and waited calmly with the bard's light music filling the night air as a backdrop to their cracking fire, the stars seeming to glitter in harmony.

"Would you help me understand what happened after the interrogation, and how we ended up being out here in the wilds again and not at the palace?" she asked, pouring herself more tea.

Regis and Geralt exchanged looks, because the poet was quite content letting them explain things concerning metaphysics. The Witcher nodded to the vampire.

"You were asking the questions, Regis. Did you want to take this one?" he asked.

"Well, can you tell me the last thing you remember? Let's start there." Regis replied.

"The last thing I remember was Arklan saying really terrible things to you, Geralt. Cruel, mean things about the nature of your person, and something about my parents being unholy beasts, or I was a beast. But, anyways…that's it. And I remember feeling badly for him. That seems weird to me, considering how cruel a person he was." She explained.

Regis paused for a short while, realizing that of course Root didn't know she'd been poisoned, that the staff and much of the castle guard had all been under the mage's control, many of them being forced to commit suicide, and some outright murdered.

"Oh my, well…let me start by saying…I'm sorry, my love. And I say that because for a brief moment in time, when you were recovering, I had to lie to you. You weren't sick from a cold or flu, my dear. You had been poisoned. But I, we, couldn't tell you that at the time because…"

"It might've triggered a shift." She said, nodding her head. "Which would've exposed me and put us all in danger. Was that what happened the day I was supposed to meet the king? I remember my heart racing and my skin was itchy and warm."

"Yes. Which is what the wizard wanted. Belladonna poisoning mirrors stress and well, we know what can happen when our Root get's stressed or scared. Of course he would've intervened in some way, be seen as a hero, and they would've handed you over to him with as little commotion as possible to not cause panic. But…when that didn't work out…" the vampire said.

"He went the panic route." Geralt continued. "The sick fuck had much of the guard and plenty of the staff deep in his power. He had several of them kill themselves, or maybe he killed them, and then accused you of being…well, a werewolf. When the king spoke to him privately about this, I'm guessing that's when he fell under the mage's spell. And well, then there was the confrontation in the throne room and…"

"I think we can skip that part." Dandelion said softly, not wanting to recall how much of her blood he had to clean up.

Root listened and found the various pieces she did have in her mind were better fitting together. Regis softly stroked her shoulder and she yawned again, sleepily looking into the fire. But then…

"How did I get poisoned in the first place?" she asked.

"One of the staff delivered some garments to you, a circlet and a pair of gloves that had been treated with the poisonous salve." Regis said and saw Root look over to Dandelion who closed his eyes, pained by that look.

"I'm sorry, Root." He said softly. "It's…"

"Dandelion was in the dark concerning much these details too, Root. It was Vernon that brought it to my attention that the wizard had been watching you. No one knew why or his motives so, there was nothing suspicious for our bard here to look for when the package was delivered." Geralt said, giving his good friend a nod and slight smile.

"So we really do owe Vernon Roche a great deal." She said quietly, her eyes heavy. "Had he not noticed who knows what could've happened? Maybe it would've been worse, for all of us."

"That's very true, my dear. Well said. I misjudged him when we first met and I'm sorry to have done so." Regis said, Geralt noting the vampires' humility in not telling her that of course he too had noticed the mage.

"So, Root, can you tell us what happened to…" Dandelion began but Regis put his finger to his lips and laid his hand on Root's shoulder, who leaned heavily against him.

Geralt had been observing her watch the firelight, become entranced by it and slip into sleep. He shook his head and chuckled softly. Regis connected to her mind, saw that she was well and truly deeply asleep and smoothly stood up, cradling her in his arms.

"I think that one will need to wait, master bard." The vampire said quietly. "I'll put her to bed and be back."

The Witcher nodded and poured himself another cup of coffee as the bard continued strumming lightly.

"She sure is something, eh Geralt? Can't say I'm not a bit jealous. I think her cries and moans kept half the forest awake last night you beast." The bard said, giving his good friend a grin. "How many orgasms was it?

The Witcher sat with his back against a heavy log and feet extended toward the fire, a very complimented and handsome smirk on his face.

"I lost count after about eleven." He said, pulling a knife from his boot and grabbing a stray bit of firewood to carve. "It's like this wood; you have to know where to place the blade and get it to bend into the shape you desire. But once you know the flow of the grain, you can make it do just about anything you want."

"You're preaching to the choir there, my good man. And so you know her um, curves that well do you?" the bard said, reaching for his drink. "You haven't known her that long. How'd you work it out?"

The Witcher grinned, looking handsome in the glow of the fire. "Root isn't very good at hiding her reactions, as you well know. And since meeting Regis, I've noted her responses when he says things to her in certain ways, or looks at her. But…it's different between what she likes about him and what she enjoys about me. Do you really want to know this?"

"Gods yes! Any skills of the trade I can pick up from the great Geralt of Rivia are bound to come in handy. Do spill all, good sir." The bard said, setting aside his lute and putting on some thick woolen mittens. "What does she like, and will she hit me if I try any of them?"

The Witcher chuckled. "No, but she might hit me for telling you." Geralt said, glancing up as Regis came back to the fire, with Dandelion still being a tiny bit weirded out by him not casting a shadow.

"Well, she hasn't hit you yet for telling me her secrets. In fact, she's been quite…pleased since you did." The vampire said, settling himself down by the fire and began packing his pipe. "But do tell us, Geralt. What about you makes our Root blush and tremble?"

Geralt looked up at his two best friends and shook his head. "You two are weird. Which I guess makes me weird for telling you. Fine. What Root finds erotic is that she is at least part werewolf and I am a witcher, a hunter of monsters. And a part of her…well, likes the idea of not being able to fight against me; similar to you, Regis, with the whole vampire thing. Her greatest defense is her shifted form and so one of her greatest fantasies is to be overpowered by a master hunter. And as for her not getting back at me, she will. I just hope I don't end up with cracked ribs like Vernon."

"Really? Like she wants you to hurt her, Geralt? Like some of the kinky women you find in the brothels?" Dandelion asked curiously.

The Witcher's eyes glittered as he spoke while whittling the piece of wood. "And scare her. As for hurting her…yes, but only a little."

"Yes, I thought I saw bite marks on her neck." Regis said, lighting his pipe and tossing the stick into the flames. "And of course they aren't mine. Well played, Geralt. But I still have you beat."

"So what does she like about you, Regis?" the bard asked, turning to the vampire. "I mean you kind of told us some of the…things…ab…"

Geralt looked up, hearing the bards' voice trail off, and saw Dandelion staring into Regis' eyes, which were slightly glowing from the firelight. The vampire drew on his pipe, which made his eyes seem to flash and the bard's head began to drop so Regis broke off his gaze and sipped his tea.

"Nice." The Witcher said with a chuckle.

Dandelion blinked a few times, shook his head, and looked at Geralt who shrugged. He then looked over to Regis who exhaled a cloud of spiced smoke and grinned, slightly showing his teeth.

"Did you just…? That's what she likes?" he exclaimed. "That you can…whatever it is you do. Hypnotize? Is that the right word?

"No. It's a spell, magical in nature." Regis explained. "It has some similarities to hypnosis but is far more powerful. But yes, that is part of what my sweet Root enjoys concerning myself. And she is quite susceptible indeed, to both my powers and Geralt's power of suggestion. As you saw tonight, she was already quite drowsy from the day and the poor dear stood little chance when her attention got focused on the light of the fire. Which reminds me to tell you, Geralt, don't use your axii sign on her in the future. I've placed a very powerful spell of protection in her subconscious and I wouldn't want you to set it off."

The Witcher nodded, tossed the bit of firewood into the flames and got up to stretch.

"And I thought I was fairly perceptive. I didn't notice her falling asleep at all until she was out." Dandelion said. "Well, I sure will pay attention to it now."

"She tries to hide it. But be kind though, my friend. Not too heavy handed. We've no desire to humiliate or embarrass her. This is just a couple of friends having a chat about an attractive woman." Regis said.

"Well, I'm going to have another piss. Too much coffee. And then get some sleep. Dandelion, you get first watch tonight. But first, what did you mean by you have me beat? I mean come on, Regis, I can bite her and you can't. And don't you tell me you don't want to because I know damn well that you do. To please her not…ya know, not for her blood." Geralt said.

"A fair point well made. But come now, White Wolf, we don't need to go there. I've no wish to take you down from your self-inflated, glorious height of exaltedness. Really, it's fine." The vampire said mischievously, practically begging the Witcher to ask him again.

"I want to know." The bard said, settling in for his watch.

The vampire looked up at the Witcher, rose to his feet and wrapped himself in his black cloak.

"How many orgasms did it take for you to finally exhaust her and send her into oblivion, Geralt?" Regis asked.

The White Wolf crossed his arms. "Around eleven or twelve."

"Seventeen. To be precise. Your endurance, like many of your skills, is truly worthy of being called legendary." Regis replied with smirk.

"Well, how many did it take you?" the bard asked.

"One." He said triumphantly. "Good night, gentleman."


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The following day, the company packed up their carriage home and extinguished the fire that had been going steadily for a few days, saving some of the hottest coals in an iron firekeeper so they could get their next blaze going quickly. Geralt had decided that since the weather was holding that they should clear the mountain pass and make camp by a finger of the river at the top. That way they'd be protected on the one side, as no one could approach from the side of the switchback without alerting them.

It was another bright, sunshine filled day when they set off with Dandelion riding Roach, Geralt and Regis on the carriage bench, and Root riding the chestnut stallion which seemed very tolerant of her and Regis' presences even though the Witcher was sure it could sense their supernatural essences. He chalked it up to the beast being bred for battle, it was one of Vernon's horses after all, and war horses had to be able to tolerate all sorts of things, even monsters. Although he did remember that Regis' presence never troubled animals; so perfectly did he mimic being human.

It was chilly, but all were wrapped warmly in heavy winter garments and found they could bear it quite well. They would ride for an hour or so, stop to stretch their legs and then continue on. And they saw no one else on the road at all. At last they approached the great wall of rock that ran along to the south and west, and the Witcher spotted the switchback that wound its way up to the top. In the far distance, to the northeast, he could barely make out the great waterfall flowing from the Morhen Valley.

"It looks like the wind did us a favor by keeping the road reasonably free of snow. It'll be steep and slow going. I'm just concerned about getting stuck on an incline with the carriage. Once we're committed we're not going to be able to get back down. Any thoughts?" he said, turning to the party.

"These are Temerian draft horses, Geralt. A single one of them can carry a fully armored knight into battle as if toting a toddler. So long as we don't hit any ice, I think we're fine." The poet said, with Roach stamping nervously. "Easy, girl."

The Witcher curled his fingers into the axii sign, held them over the old mares' head and she calmed. Dandelion stole a glance over to Root who averted her eyes and pretended not to notice.

"I think Dandelion is right, Geralt. These mighty steeds seem eager to move on as well. Let us be off and camp before the sun sets. I wager it'll be beautiful to watch it from the top." Regis said. "But first, Root why don't you let me ride and you can sit for a while."

Root was grateful for the offer, but as she slid down from the saddle she faltered a bit, rubbing the inside of her thigh. When Regis passed her he scented a distinct tang in the air. The forest maiden climbed up onto the bench and laid the heavy blanket over her lap, and the vampire swung into the saddle of Vernon's chestnut.

As they began their climb, Geralt was indeed impressed by the might of the horses that easily made the hike and soon they cleared the switchback and rolled the carriage home to a nearby copse of trees. It was just an hour before sundown and the winter sky was indeed a beautiful array of pinks, purples and gold as the sun began it's descent into the west. Below them, the valley that Vizima rested in was already dark.

While Geralt got their fire going, Dandelion and Root wandered nearby to find any deadwood they could use for fuel, as it was getting too dark to fell any trees or split firewood. Happily they had a good supply yet from King Foltest and soon the White Wolf had a great blaze going and Root unfolded the kitchen to make a meal. As she cooked, Regis noticed her discomfort but said nothing, not wanting to embarrass her. Of course he knew what was troubling the only woman of their company. So he got his kettle from the storage and spent some time going through his collection of dried herbs, dropping them into the boiling water.

After they'd eaten a filling meal of venison cooked in rich gravy with carrots and potatoes, the vampire turned to the poet.

"Dandelion would you be so good as to clean up tonight?" he asked, rising and taking the kettle from the grate. "Root, join me for a cup of tea?"

Geralt raised an eyebrow but shrugged, figuring that whatever reason Regis had for asking was a good one. The bard happily obliged and the forest maiden followed Regis into the sleeping area of their small home, latching the flap shut. He put the kettle on top of one of the chests, arranged the furs and pillows nicely and patted the spot next to him as he sat down. She joined him, and he noticed it was not without some difficulty that she did so. He poured her a cup of tea, which had been steeping for well over twenty minutes on the grate, and passed it to her.

"This should help your cramps and other symptoms." He said kindly. "I didn't want to say anything in front of our companions."

Root choked quietly, sniffed and smiled at him. Regis put his hand on her shoulder, seeing tears in her eyes. "What is it, my love?"

"No one has ever cared." She said, trying not to break down, her voice cracking.

The wise healer knew that Root's emotions were raw and would be for a few days. And it also now made perfect sense why she'd been so very pleased to have had such lengthy sex with Geralt the other night. He was relieved that no pregnancy could result from relations with the witcher or himself, as that would bring difficulties to their journey that he wasn't sure Root would want. However, it did occur to him that sex with Dandelion should probably remain off the table, although he'd seen no sign of her being attracted to the bard at all. Which Regis thought must wound the flirtatious poet in some way, being known as he was as quite the ladies' man throughout the northern kingdoms. Still, the poet was clearly desirous of her. And while he would never come between Root and a desired lover, should he manage to persuade her, Regis felt that as her physician he should advise her.

"The tea will help. It has some very potent reagents in it that will give your muscles some much needed relaxation and help your mental and emotional state. And it will most likely make you a bit drowsy so I thought I'd get you comfortable in here for the evening. Did you need some clean cloths?" He said as easily as asking about the weather, without a trace of the embarrassment that some men displayed around female issues.

"I love you" she said, trying to smile, partially crying and sipping her tea.

Regis smiled at her and stroked her cheek. "I know. Drink and get changed into something more comfortable. The cloths are in that black case there. I'll go get another kettle going because you'll need to drink this for the next few days to get the most benefit from the plants. I'll be back."

He walked back to the fire to find Geralt and Dandelion playing Barrel on top of an overturned crate, the bard clearly having just won the last hand and took a long pull from his bottle of henbane beer, some of the last from Falithe's stock.

"Yeah, that's at least two good meals you owe me. Whenever we get to another decent town I suppose. How long do you plan on being on the road? Oh hey, Regis, what's up? Everything OK?" the poet asked as he set the spare kettle on to boil.

"Oh yes, all is well. Long day in the saddle so I think she's going to turn in early is all. I'm just getting her some more tea." He replied kindly.

"I don't know." Geralt replied, shuffling the deck. "I'm used to wandering myself, so is Regis. And well, Root doesn't seem to do so great in cities so I'm supposing we'll just see where the road takes us. Of course we'll visit places at times for supplies, sight-seeing, maybe a little work for me to make some coin, stuff like that. So don't worry, Feathercap, you won't have to go too long without a good fuck."

"I hope not. And speaking of coin, I always have a free room at most inns and I'm sure I could pull a few strings, and cash in favors to get us all places to stay should we need them. And with my music, we should be able to bring in some decent money." The bard said. "Alright deal; I'll kick your butt again."

Regis climbed back into the carriage home and found that Root had changed into one of the pajama sets that had been purchased for her; a simple, soft cotton top and light fitting pants. She was leaning against the pillows, with her first pot of tea empty, so he filled her cup and sat next to her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"A little better. I had something similar to this back home. I'm very glad you had some of these plants. You are so…just…you're unlike anyone I've ever met." She said, sipping. "Thank you, Regis."

Regis leaned over and kissed her temple. "Well, how many higher vampires do you know?" he said with a playful look which made her laugh, a sound he loved.

"Fair enough, only you. And I've not been around many other people either, but some. Remember I did live with the elves for a time. I suppose what I mean is…well, father raised me on his own of course. And naturally he did his best to understand and help when the blood would run but he was…ya know…"

"A man. A typical man." He replied with a tone of disdain. "Forgive me, Root, I've no wish to disrespect the memory of your father. But as a surgeon and a man who knows much of how the body works, it offends me that people are often so ignorant. And the superstitions surrounding a woman's time of bleeding are shocking. Some even call it a curse. Such blather. There is nothing unclean, unholy or dirty about it. You can always tell me what you need or how you're feeling, Root."

"And speaking of men." He continued. "I need to ask you something very personal. But I think it's for your benefit. Do you have any sexual desire for Dandelion?"

The forest maiden looked over to her love, her green eyes curious. "No. He's very sweet and charming of course but, no. Why? Has he told you that he desires me?"

Regis nodded. "Well, just to be absolutely clear, I didn't ask for idle curiosity or out of jealousy. After all, Geralt and I share you just fine with no ill feelings at all. And yes, he has expressed that he's very attracted to you. However, he's equally noticed you aren't. Attracted to him that is. But, that may not stop him from flirting and being playful, and well we know how things can go when playful flirtation takes a turn. But if I may be entirely straightforward, he is the only one who could get you pregnant in our trio. Which given our traveling lifestyle may not be something you'll want to go through. So I wanted to check with you because if you were, I could make you a contraceptive medicinal."

Root adored her love and just looked at him with such a deep longing in her eyes, wishing she felt better so that she could take him right then and there. Regis was again stunned by the reflection of love he saw in her and it made him swell with happiness.

"You are the most perfect being in the world, Emiel Regis. I love you." She said, setting down her tea cup. "He can flirt with me if he likes. But I will tell him at some point. I love how wonderfully open we all can be and I'm sure he'll understand. But I have to step out now."

When she hopped back into the sleeping area, the vampire was lying on his side with his head propped up. Root came and lay down in the bed, covered herself with the blankets and turned to face him.

"It's beautiful out but chilly in these lighter garments." She said, snuggling close to him.

The vampire looked at the woman he adored, reached over and softly brushed his fingers over her mouth.

"I have a question for you." He asked quietly.

"Another?" she replied playfully.

He smiled, and slowly sat up, rolling the hem of his shirt sleeve, and carefully watching her reaction. There was the tiniest separation of her lips, a movement no human would've noticed, and a near silent intake of breath.

"Since you are losing some of your blood, I would like to offer you some more of mine to help you keep your strength as we travel. But only a little since you fed a lot very recently. Would you like it?" he asked her, again watching her reactions.

Root nodded her head, but was not over-eager, which he noted as a very good sign. Regis let one of his fangs cut the flawless skin at the wrist, leaned over and pressed it to her mouth. Her soft lips kissed the wound and she licked the blood. Then she lapped at it a bit, still not sure how best to drink from him, before beginning to suck at the wound itself, her eyes closing as the powerful, potent liquid filled her. She could hear his heartbeat, or was it hers? Root wasn't sure, and it didn't matter because it tasted so, so very good. It seemed to her that with each beat, with each pull of her lips, his rich, warm blood would run down her throat and she loved it, loved consuming the man she adored in such an intimate way. The vampire watched her carefully and when he felt her begin to pull more deeply from the wound he gently pried it away from her mouth.

"There now," he said softly, the wound closing swiftly. "As I said, my love, short and sweet."

She again felt tremendous power within her, but this time it was accompanied by a floating feeling of euphoria, like she'd consumed one of the red capped mushrooms of the forest. And Root listened to him, knowing he was far wiser than she concerning such things. She licked her lips and yawned.

"Regis?" she asked.

"Yes, Root?" he replied.

"Will you…um, can you…" she said, her cheeks turning pink.

His eyes seemed to glitter as they beckoned her deep within.

"Yes. Yes I can, my love." He whispered, holding her gaze.

"Yes, that…" she said softly.

Her eyelids drooped and she sighed heavily, Regis sensing the menstrual pain melt away as deep sleep washed over her.

"Good night, my sweet lady." He whispered, smiling as she began to lightly snore.

* * *

Geralt put the percolator onto the grate over the fire, while the bard sat nearby, plucking the strings of his lute to tune it. Regis soon joined them, putting his tea kettle next to the coffee pot.

"Everything fine with our mighty werewolf companion?" Geralt asked.

"She's doing much better. Our Root will need some extra rest for the next few days so I've made a tea for her that will aid in that. But she's sleeping heavily now, her body needing some relief." Regis explained "My goodness we drink a lot of this stuff. I'll have to see what dried herbs I can procure at our next city visit."

Dandelion looked up. "I thought I noticed her holding her lower back earlier. That's rough for women to endure, and on horseback too. Sure glad I don't have to go through that."

"Me too. We'd never hear the end of your whining for five or six days straight." Geralt said with a smirk. "Although to be honest, Regis, Root probably should be telling us more of her needs. We can't help if we don't know."

The vampire nodded. "I know. She's doesn't wish to feel like a burden though, so she tried hiding her period from us. I don't know what she was thinking, well I mean I do but…never mind. Of course I can smell her bleeding. I was going to keep it private but I see you have both correctly ascertained what her discomfort was about."

"So did you like it?" the bard asked, strumming the lute, playing a quiet tune.

"Did I like what?" Regis asked, dropping herbs into the now boiling water. "Oh. Ahhh…"

"Jeez, Dandelion." Geralt said, rolling his eyes and grabbing another log of firewood.

But the poet continued, undeterred by the annoyed Witcher. "In the past, when you drank blood, did you like it? I mean I've tried it so I just wondered."

"You have?" both Geralt and Regis said in unison.

The bard looked at the both of them. "Well, of course! What's a little blood in the heat of the moment? No big deal. Besides, sex during their cycle is great for their muscles. A good amount of foreplay loosens them up, couple of orgasms and," The bard snapped his fingers. "Right to sleep they go, happy and content. And wake up singing my praises, which is always a bonus."

Regis nodded his head. "You're quite right, master bard; it can be very relieving for a woman to engage in sex during that time. Although many don't want to and well, many men shun it due to silly taboos about blood or childishly believing it to be dirty. But as for your question, I don't recall a time I drank the lunar rain, menstrual blood. However, I have of course been around it a lot since I am a physician. And I used to have many women come to my shop to get herbal relief for their cramps, or other products often desired or needed by females. It is quite a powerful scent and I can see why some vampires desire and consume it."

The rest of the night passed quietly, with the three men each settling into their routines of light music playing, wood carving and reading. The Witcher kept the fire stoked up but soon he rose, grabbed his blades and set off for a patrol of the area and their surroundings. Dandelion seemed to be working on a new piece of music, and he would stop now and then and replay a section, committing it to memory.

The waxing half moon was directly overhead, illuminating the frosty winter night, and the Witcher stood with his hands tucked under his cloak at the edge overlooking the valley. In the distance he could just make out the dim lights of Vizima twinkling like stars in the darkness. They hadn't gone very far, but that had been the plan. A nice, slow, leisurely journey to wherever the road would take them. They had plenty of fuel, food and no where to be. The White Wolf felt free and happy and he let his thoughts wander to the lovely woman lying asleep in the carriage home. His friend Regis then appeared by his side, enjoying a pipe.

"What a beautiful night, eh Geralt? Not a cloud in the sky and the glorious moon overhead. I'm glad we made it up the mountain path today, this is a great vantage point." The vampire said quietly, the smoke drifting in the cold air.

Below them the mild winter wind rustled the dark pines, and behind them the soft playing of music filled the night.


	33. Chapter 33

The next five days passed in wintry peace, with Root mostly keeping to herself, only coming out to do her business and stretch before climbing back into the carriage to sleep or read one of the many books that Emiel Regis had brought with him. Geralt took the opportunity to do a wide exploration of the area, spending much of day six on horseback away from camp. Regis too explored, finding a few of the cold weathering herbs and roots he needed growing near the river they were camped by, which still had open water near the shore. And Dandelion maintained the fire and had taken over the making of their meals.

As evening fell on that sixth day, the forest maiden emerged from the carriage carrying with her a bundle of the soiled cloths, and quickly tossed them onto the fire. The bard gave her a friendly smile as he began prepping their tiny carriage kitchen to make dinner.

"Good gravy it's seems like ages since I've seen your lovely face, Root. Feeling better?" he asked, taking out some of the venison the Witcher had harvested a few days prior.

"I am." She replied happily, pulling her fur hood up. "Thank you so much for taking over the cooking. Can I help?"

"Sure. Let's have this backstrap sautéed in butter and why not chop some parsnips, carrots and potatoes up too. I'm afraid all the summer apples are gone so I'm not sure what we can do for dessert." He said, prepping the deer meat.

"I know." She said, opening up one of the many storage bins. "Oh let's see here, I thought I saw some…aha!...cocoa. I'll make hot chocolates for us." Root said.

"Just what a woman needs after that time!" he said and she blushed shyly. "Aww hey, no need for that. We're all grown, decent men and we get it, my lady. And well, aren't I right?"

Root hugged the bard warmly. "You are. At least in regards this woman. I suppose there's some out there who don't care for it. I could only get it rarely out in the deep woods of course, usually having to trade the elves for some. I feel so spoiled with this grand gift of the king. What shall we do when all this runs out?"

"I wager we'll do what we've all done for years, get by doing what we can. Hand me that black pepper will you? I mean I'm not going to fib, I'm a city boy. I love the life there. And well, you don't have to worry about things like your next meal when you live in a major town."

"Some do, Dandelion. There are plenty of poor in major cities. They are just often invisible." Regis said, setting his traveling staff and satchel down on the wagon bench, having returned from his herb search.

"I know…I…I didn't, I suppose what I meant is, I don't. Forgive me, I didn't mean to be insensitive. Welcome back, Regis. Our werewolf is up and about." The bard said, tucking the strips of venison into the iron skillet with a generous amount of butter and heading toward the fire.

The vampire nodded to Dandelion and turned to Root. "Good evening. I can tell by the scent in the air that you've burned the cloths as I instructed. We shall have to get some more of those, and the herbs before the next cycle. But I think we shall have enough to get you through the first day or two, which seem to be the worst."

But the forest maiden simply looked at him with green eyes that absolutely seemed to glow with desire, and it made the vampire grin broadly, his dark eyes shining in the light of the gibbous moon. He stepped closer to her, mere inches away from her lips and then lightly kissed her between the eyes, making her blink shyly.

"Yes, I know exactly what you're feeling right now." He said softly, lightly running his fingers over her eyelids, making her blush and lower her gaze. "Later, me minne."

Root reluctantly turned back to pouring the ingredients for hot chocolates into a pot while Regis tended to the horses. But Geralt had still not returned and it was getting late.

Soon the camp was filled with the delicious aroma of cooked venison, seasoned with a generous amount of black pepper and served with a side of roasted vegetables. Root made sure to keep a generous plate for the hunter when he returned, wrapping a flour sack towel over it and setting it near the fire to keep warm. She served them their hot chocolates and then began her usual clean up of the kitchen area while the vampire and Dandelion exchanged lore about ancient styles of music. As she latched the kitchen area shut, Root turned, catching a horrid stink on the wind.

Regis was aware of it too and slowly rose, his keen eyes searching the bank of the nearby river. The bard, seeing the tension and hearing the warning in Root's growl, remained silent and reached for a blade. The woman unlatched her cloak and hung it on the wagon as she climbed up into the back and then leapt out a moment later in beast form, hackles raised and green eyes shining in the darkness. The vampire came to her side, both of them stalking forward, following the scent.

"Dandelion, stay and guard the horses. We need them." Regis said and the bard nodded.

On the bank of the river they could see several pairs of eyes that shimmered as the firelight caught them. Reflective and fish-like, they watched in eerie silence as the pair approached. And then they began to hiss and move forward, the reek of their water drenched bodies almost making the werewolf choke. They had bloated, humanoid forms, long claws and bulbous eyes.

"Drowners." Regis commented quietly. "Foul but ultimately sad creatures of water and darkness."

Root locked her eyes onto the lead drowner and let a mighty growl rip from her throat which made the pack hesitate. Six of them exchanged looks with each other. Clearly they'd thought the company would be easy pickings and their courage, even with more in number, was daunted. But the werewolf was faster than a bolt of lightning as she lunged, locking her jaws onto the head of one, twisting and off it popped like a fish head, the body falling to its knees, then dead to the snowy ground. With a feral roar Root blasted them and leapt into their midst, ripping them to pieces with her mighty claws, savagely goring them. Their bodies soon littered the bank, the snow painted in blood. But more rose from the banks of the river and Emiel Regis turned on them, a terrifying snarl falling from his lips and he easily dispatched them, deftly avoiding their swipes with supernatural grace and speed.

The horses stamped nervously, hearing the shrieks of the drowners and the roar of the werewolf. Except for Vernon's chestnut, who just seemed to stand it all with indifferent patience and calm, his ears twitching lazily. Dandelion held the tethers of the draft horses that pulled their portable home and heard the sound of fast approaching hooves. He turned, saw Geralt leap from the saddle and race past him, a silver sword singing as it was loosed from the sheath.

"Hold onto, Roach!" the Witcher cried and dashed forward, his fingers forming into a sign.

The werewolf brutally crushed a drowner beneath her and snapped its throat in her jaws. The disgusting taste of rotten, bloated flesh filled her mouth, and she spat. Roaring she tore the head off and turned toward the figure running toward them.

"Move!" Geralt said, his fingers making the sign of igni.

Root leapt away from the fray just as fire erupted from the Witchers' hand and flooded the entire group of drowners in scalding, orange-white, magical flames. They screamed as their skin roasted and popped before falling as burnt cinders. The White Wolf turned gracefully and hit a few more with the sign of aard, cutting those closest to him down with swift silver. Soon all the drowners lay dead in a heap and the Witcher threw the igni sign over the corpses yet again, burning them into ash to be carried away by the winter wind. Regis walked to the side of his friend, patting out a tiny bit of flame that had caught on his cloak.

"Oh…Well, I'm sure glad fire doesn't harm me. Welcome back, Geralt. Root are you…Root?" he said.

The werewolf growled fiercely as she stalked back toward the camp, circling around their wagon and facing the direction that Geralt had rode back from. There was a small group of people just on the edge of the firelight, watching Dandelion calm the horses, but the bard didn't know they were there, so silent had been their approach. She snarled at them and a few took hesitant steps back, all but one, who stepped into the light of the fire. A tall, elven man with piercing blue eyes and cropped brown hair folded his arms into his cloak and looked past her, nodding.

The Witcher walked forward and put a hand on her back with Regis following just behind, watching the small party with interest. The werewolf looked up and he scratched her muzzle.

"They're fine, Root. Go ahead and get changed." He said nodding to the carriage. "Good work out there too."

Root gave the elven man a wary look but she trusted Geralt and turned, nuzzled Regis' hand, and vanished behind their home on wheels. The bard finally got the horses calmed and fed, and walked up.

"Hey, Geralt. You sure know how to make an entrance. Root saved you some…oh, hello. And who are you?" he asked, noticing the tall elven man, and the rest of the elves as they came forward.

"We're travelers from the Bald Mountain region seeking life elsewhere. The witcher is allowing us to journey with you. Safety in numbers and all, as we have few warriors, most of them having gone off to join the Scoia'tael." Said the man, clearly the leader.

"Just keep your politics and grudges to yourself and we'll be fine." Geralt said. "We don't want trouble with anyone, Squirrels, soldiers or otherwise. You'll find no judgment from anyone in my company but I won't tolerate bullshit. And those that are able will be expected to help. You hired me, remember, this isn't a charity."

The elven man inclined his head respectfully. "Of course, Gwynbleidd. My people will set up their tents opposite your…erm…rather large carriage."

Geralt nodded and the elven group set about raising their own fur tents, while the few children gathered around the fire, their eyes curious and staring up at the golden eyed warrior they'd just seen dispatch a small horde of monsters alongside a werewolf.

The forest maiden dressed herself, wishing she had some sort of magical clothing that would change with her.

"Oh wouldn't that be nice." She mused, pulling up her pants and fastening the belt.

She slipped down from the back and wrapped her heavy green wool cloak about her. It was a chilly winter evening and she stood for a while watching her breath become a frosty cloud in the air. Overhead, the moon illuminated a clear sky studded with countless stars. Root wondered about the drowners, and whether it would be safe for them to stay by the river. She'd fought them before, as drowners would sometimes arise in the deep woods, their once living bodies having been dumped into a pool or boggy area for one reason or another.

Root looked to the north and swore she saw something flit through the trees, not very far from the bend in the river where the drowners attacked. Wanting to make sure no threats remained, she looked back at the camp. Geralt was conversing with the elven man who led the small party of other aen seidhe, Dandelion busied himself with entertaining the children with slight of hand, and her handsome Regis was setting his kettle on to boil. All was well. Deciding she could meet the new company members later, she pulled up her hood and set off down the snowy bit of path.

"There must've been some sort of large camp here at one time. This path is well worn despite the snow." She wondered aloud.

A light seemed to bounce through a copse of trees just ahead, but other than that it was dark and she could see very little with her unshifted eyes. And then it paused and seemed to hover. Curious, the woman drew closer to the small grove and positioned herself behind one of the trees, peering around. There was the light, almost like a blue firefly, just ahead about twenty feet. Glancing around, she did not see or hear anyone.

"No sign of drowners." She said, her breath puffing in the cold air. "Hello?"

The night was still and silent, save but the wind rattling the frozen branches of the trees and the snow glittering like Mahakam diamonds around her. And then…it just went out, like someone had snuffed out a candle. Root listened, tilted her head, and her hood slipped as the wind ruffled her short brown hair. She then felt a presence and turned, gasping as the helmed face of the Navigator stared back at her through skull-like eyes. He was tall, very tall, as the aen elle were, and towered over her, huge and wraith like. His staff ignited with the cold blue light she'd seen in her dreams and she averted her gaze, falling backwards into the snow as she tried to back away, shielding her face with her hands. A soft chuckle rang hollowly from within the mask.

"You remember." He said. "Clever little wolf. But this isn't a dream and I know what the high one has placed in your mind. You are, however, too easily distracted."

* * *

"Root?" Geralt said, poking his head into the carriage to see if she'd perhaps turned in for the night. But instead he found it empty, save for his wolf medallion lying on a chest, which was practically leaping because it was vibrating so strongly.

The Witcher grabbed it, slipped it over his head and looked out into the night. He saw footprints leading to the north, but couldn't fathom why she'd go wandering that way alone. He too saw a curious blue light and glanced over as Regis came to his side.

"Regis, you said you can connect to Root's mind right?" Geralt asked.

The vampire nodded. "I can indeed. Oh, and we're going to need more firewood with the addition to our party." He said, and then noticed Geralt's concerned face. "Why?"

"Can you tell where she is? I came to check on her and she's not here, but I found my medallion in the back. She must've forgotten to put it on when she got dressed."

"Certainly." He said and closed his eyes.

* * *

Caranthir thrust his staff into the snow and reached toward Root, pulling a pair of dimeterium manacles from one of his belt pouches, her hands still raised to keep herself from looking at the light but also partially blinding her to his movements. As the fear peaked, she could feel her body begin to shift but then suddenly…it stopped. Confused she opened her eyes and saw that her wrists had been shackled in the same sort of suppression manacles that Arklan had been bound in. The Navigator of the Wild Hunt seized the chain and pulled the woman to her feet, while grabbing his staff and beginning an incantation to open a gateway back to his realm.

"No, no, NO! I won't! I WON'T!" she screamed and pulled on the chains the behemoth elf held in his grip. "I don't care what you were promised! I won't go with you! I WON'T!"

* * *

"Get your bow and be quick!" Regis said and raced toward the north, following her footprints as fast as the night would carry him.

* * *

The time mage ignored her struggles and soon a portal flared into existence before him, a vortex of magical energy swirling with light, illuminating the grove, and he dragged her toward it. Root struggled against the manacles, trying to will her body to shift, but all she could feel was a dull throbbing in her ears, like she's been cut off from the supernatural energy that infused the change.

"REGIS! GERALT!" she screamed as he pulled her closer to the portal, her feet trying to find footing in the snow to stop herself from being dragged.

There was then a blur and the chain was ripped from the Navigator's hand, causing him to turn toward her.

"You're not that str…ahhh it's you. The so-called higher vampire," Caranthir said nastily, turning toward the ancient being that stood protectively in front of the forest maiden. "And protector of her mind. Well done. You made capturing this promised chattel very difficult you know."

Caranthir held the staff, his fingers curling into a magical spell with shimmers of lightning coalescing in his palm.

"Considering who you are and your skill, I will take that as a compliment. However, you will never have her." Regis said, baring his fangs at the huntsman, who hesitated before the power that flowed from the ancient vampire.

And then there was a whistle and a white fletched arrow buried itself deep into the Navigators shoulder, causing his concentration and thus his spell to falter. Another whistle sang through the winter air, but the huntsman anticipated it, deftly moving as the arrow pierced the birch tree next to him. Without a sound, he snapped off the shaft and turned toward the Witcher as he approached, the recurve bowstring drawn to his cheek.

"You're alone, Navigator. You've no chance against us and you know it. Show that sting to Eredin and stay the fuck away from us." Geralt said coldly.

Caranthir turned to Root. "You cannot elude us forever, luned bleidd. Until our next meeting." He said and leapt into the portal, which closed behind him with a popping noise.

The vampire turned to Root. "Are you…"

"Get them off! Please, get them off!" Root said, her voice trembling, but not with fear, with anger.

Regis easily snapped the manacles from her wrists and went to embrace her but she held her hands up, gently pushing him away, and started pacing around the grove of trees. He exchanged glances with Geralt, who'd relaxed the draw on the bow. Her hands were clenched into fists.

"WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?!" she screamed into the winter night. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME? WHY!"

The woman was full on crying and screaming her anger and frustration into the night. The tears ran down her cheeks and began to freeze so she blinked away the tiny crystals forming on her lashes.

"I…I don't want to be hunted! I don't want to be singled out. I…I don't want to be important to anyone. I…I just want…" she said, her voice breaking.

Emiel Regis came to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder, turning her toward him. She couldn't help but be stunned as he stood there, radiating majesty and power.

"You're important to me, whether or not you want to be." He said softly, his dark eyes filled with love.

Root looked at him and her green eyes flowed with tears. "People who care for me end up dead, my love. I…I kill people…My very existence killed my mother. All those people at the palace…dead…because of me…I…"

"No, hush now, my love." He said and pulled her into his embrace. "That's not true at all. None of that is your fault."

She sobbed into his chest. "I just want to be strong for all of you. I…I want to help. And I just…I just…keep being nothing but a worthless member of this party…"

Regis held her in his arms, looking up at Geralt over her shoulder, and the vampire knew the Witcher often felt the same way; that his close proximity to others meant pain if not their doom. But like he was wrong about himself, Regis knew she was wrong too.

"No, Root, that's not true." He said, stroking her hair. "The Hunt is after you because of what you are, not who. And what you are is very powerful, my dear forest maiden, more than you even realize. And you didn't get a say in that. None of us gets a say in what we are. And those who do single us out for the what are shallow beings, worthy of pity, not respect or fear. It is who we are that matters. And who you are, who you've chosen to be, is someone beautiful…patient, kind, grown wise beyond her years, curious, adorable and playful, and the woman that I love. You are not worthless. Your worth is not in the what…but the who. So long as you remember that, the Wild Hunt can never truly capture you. Gods forbid they ever take your body. But they will never capture your spirit, your wild, beautiful essence that is the who."

Root nestled against his chest. Regis connected to her mind and radiated a sense of calm directly into her. She relaxed and sniffed, wiping her eyes.

"There, you're alright." He said.

"Dandelion will be getting anxious." Geralt said softly, turning to walk back.

"Wait…Geralt." She said, holding her hand out to him without leaving Regis' embrace.

The White Wolf stepped forward and Root pulled him close so that she was between the two men she loved.

"I love you both so much." She said passionately, her body beginning to shiver from the cold. "I…I need to be better…for all of us."

"My dear, I should like to point out that while it is admirable that you desire to…be better, as it were, this was no small encounter. That was Caranthir, a general of the Wild Hunt. Luckily he was alone; otherwise as I said before, you'd stand no chance against them. And you resisted him! Stood against one of the great huntsman! Had he not had suppression manacles, I very much doubt he would've been able to subdue you in beast form. You have great power in you, Root. It's wild and sometimes brutal, yes, but you're not weak. But…you are very cold so let's us return and get you warm." Regis said pulling her hood up and wiping her tears with his thumb.

Geralt then slipped his wolf medallion over her head and she held it. "Oh…I…"

"You forgot to put it back on when you dressed, Drowner Slayer" he said, leaning forward and kissing her forehead.

Root put her hand on his face, loving the feel of the bit of stubble, and kissed him. She then turned to Regis, gazed into his dark eyes, and gave her mouth over to his as he leaned in.

"Come on you two." Geralt said. "Dandelion can't manage a camp full of elves all by himself."

"We will talk more later." Regis said, reluctantly leaving her lips. "There are things we should discuss about what Arklan revealed concerning your nature. And I think you'll be relieved to know so we can begin teaching you various erm…skills. Oh, and Root?"

The forest maiden looked over to him as they walked back together. "Yes, Regis?"

"Please don't ever make Geralt and I hold hands." He said with his usual pursed lip grin.

And the Witcher and the werewolf laughed out loud as a light snow began to fall.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

When they came back to camp, Dandelion was waving at the small band of happy elven children as they raced back to their families for bedtime. And despite her close encounter with the huntsman, it cheered her to see smiling faces and a bright fire.

"Yes, I promise to show you more tricks. Good night!" he said with a chuckle. "Kids."

Save for one heavily bundled little girl with a fur jacket and mittens, who shyly walked up to Root and stared up at her. She had bright hazel eyes and her ears were not as pointed as the others, indicating she was maybe half-blood. Root crouched down to her level and lowered her own hood.

"What is it, little one?" she asked.

"Bleidd beanna?" she asked, reaching forward and touching Root's short hair.

Root glanced at Regis and Geralt, but they were talking to Dandelion. "Yes, that's right." She replied with a cheerful smile. "And who…"

"Cera!" called a feminine voice from the elven circle of tents. "Come on, dear!"

The little girl turned and went back to her group, glancing back at Root. A woman scooped her up and gave her a cuddle as the girl pointed back at the forest maiden. She looked her way, nodded politely with a shy smile and carried the child to their tent. Root stood and went to the fire to warm herself.

"Geralt and Regis just explained what happened. Are you doing alright? Can I help in any way, or get anything for you? Well, anything that can be procured from our humble yet lavish carriage home?" Dandelion asked with a friendly face, coming to stand with her.

Root smiled kindly at the bard. "It…it troubles me deeply that these events keep happening to me, or rather around me I guess; makes me really angry in fact. But…Regis was right, it's not who I am that they're after, it's what. And that wasn't my choice, and it makes them pitiful. Don't get me wrong, master bard, they are terrifying to behold. But I think…I think the fear they project hides a deeper ugliness. If…if that makes sense." She said.

"Well said indeed, Root. I'm inclined to agree. From what Geralt has explained to me, the Wild Hunt is nothing more than slavers from another world, come to bring more workers to their realm. They use ignorance, myth and magic to appear…well as they are, otherworldly, or in the mind of people here, supernatural. They're elves though, yes?" Dandelion asked.

"Yes, they are." Root replied. "Aen Elle, People of the Alders. My father knew much of them. And…now I know why." She said, her voice trailing off. "Well, anyways. I see you've quite a hand with children. They sure looked happy."

"Yeah, I don't know. I like other peoples' kids. You know? So, what did she call you?" the bard asked, nodding to the elven camp.

"Bleidd beanna. Elvish meaning wolf woman. She must've worked it out that none of the men came back in a different form after vanishing behind the wagon. I quite like the sound of that, much better than werewolf." She replied with a long yawn. "As for things you could get me, a hot bath would be simply glorious. But I don't think a tub is stashed in our carriage."

The bard glanced over at Root while Geralt was crouched by the fire, warming up the plate of food she'd saved, and Regis had seated himself near the blaze, packing his pipe.

"So, Root, you seem very sleepy. Are you ready to dream?" the bard asked.

Her head turned quickly to him. But the bard maintained his best card playing face and just looked back at her calmly.

"What?" she asked, and he did not miss her eyes flit to the Witcher then back to him. "Oh, um…no, not just yet.

He nodded and took a seat by the fire, the White Wolf looking at both of them as Root sat in her usual place by Regis. While the poet took out his lute and begin strumming his fingers over the strings, making a lovely sound as a very light snow fell, evaporating in the heat of their strong fire.

"Thank you for saving this, Root." Geralt said, devouring the dinner he'd missed, washing it down with a swig of ale. "I didn't know you could cook like this, Dandelion."

The bard nodded. "I pay attention and pick up things here and there." He said, the soft tone filling the air. "Like for example, I learned a lullaby the last time I was through Novigrad. Would you like to hear it?"

The vampire, unseen by Root, grinned at the bard while Geralt stole a glance over to her to see if she was glaring at him. She wasn't, so he just forked more venison into his mouth and kept quiet. She squirmed and felt her face warm, but she tried to hide it by putting her hood up.

"Why Root, are you blushing?" the bard said, looking right into her green eyes. "It's my singing voice isn't it? I know. It has such a charming effect on women."

"No…I'm just…still a little chilly is all. Do play, master bard, I quite enjoy your music." She replied, peering at him from under the hood.

"Very well." He said and began to play.

Under the hands of the master musician, the lute filled the night with the most beautiful music, with several of the elves turning to look over and listen. He played for several minutes and then began to sing in a beautiful, rich, mid-range voice that was as peaceful and warm to the ear as the firelight was to the body.

"Dearme, little one, as the evening star rises in the sky. All the earth has flown to sleep, it's time to say good night. Farewell the little rivers, that sing you off to rest. For the forest knows that nighttime is for sleeping best…"

Geralt finished his dinner and enjoyed an ale, while Regis softly caressed Root's arm as she rested against him. The fire crackled pleasantly, and the encounter with the Navigator seemed so very, very far away as Root imagined a starlit forest lit by millions of fireflies during high summer.

"Sleep now, little one, as the birds have gone to dream. Hear the sleepy sound of trilling lazy streams."

Regis could feel her body relaxing, her head turning, lips slightly parted. Geralt didn't dare turn and look right at her, lest she catch on. But she was already dreaming when he began the last verse, dreaming of her pale, immortal soul-mate meeting her in a glade, a sprig of lavender behind her ear.

"Dearme, little dreamer, close your eyes and sleep, for the forest protects you always, love, forever it shall you keep. Forever it shall you keep." He finished, allowing the sound of the lute to trail off slowly.

"Well done, Dandelion." Regis said, hearing her quiet breathing and feeling her weight against him. "Well done indeed. I would move her but she's dreaming. When she cycles down into deep sleep, I'll put her to bed."

Dandelion lowered his instrument and smiled broadly but spoke quietly. "That actually worked. I hope she likes it. I wrote it for her. I just, ya know, didn't want to say that earlier or she might've caught on. Why do you suppose she's so susceptible to things that? I mean in a way, gentleman, it's a little too easy. I mean I get why she conks out when you look at her, Regis. But why would my music have that effect? And what is it you do that causes that, Geralt?"

Regis looked to the Witcher. "I have a theory, but let's hear you first."

"Root enjoys…other things, about me. But, as to that, it's a simple trance inducing technique really." He said gesturing to his wolf medallion around her neck. "I've used that as a pendulum, but she was heavily sedated at the time too. I'd be willing to bet I wouldn't get away with that again."

"Oh, you're wrong there, old friend." Regis said quietly. "Remember, to some degree she wants you to get away with it. But as for my theory, which yes I've wondered about that very thing, Dandelion, I think that in her case it's simply Nature's doing."

"How so?" the bard asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Well, Nature's mechanism is what scholars call Evolution. It's the engine that moves life along, alters it, shifts it, changes it as needed. In her case, the forces, her parents, that came together to create her most likely would never have crossed paths naturally. Their union created a physically and erm…energetically powerful being. So much so that it is my opinion that we've only seen a small fraction of what she's capable of. In short, she's what naturalists would call a super predator. And like all super predators they tend to have a single, crippling weakness to keep them in check. Hers is her mind. Not in the sense that she's not intelligent, she clearly is, albeit naïve with many things simply unknown to her. But rather, she gets focused on things very, very easily, almost to the point of tunnel vision, and right into a trance state she goes. And as we've seen, if the right things are said or done, she'll fall asleep very quickly." Regis explained, closing his eyes for a moment to observe her depth of rest. He then continued. "We've seen this, Geralt. When she first woke after we'd taken her from Falithe; how focused she was on that deer. Remember? She was so hungry, nothing else mattered, not even fleeing from us. And what happened a short while later? She fell asleep tucked under my arm, much like this in fact."

The Witcher nodded. "Well, you sort of helped that happen, Regis. Your voice was, is, very soothing. But neither of us knew it'd have that effect. But yes, that makes sense. And then with Arklan in the parlor. She was being decimated by crossbow bolts and yet didn't take her eyes off him for a second. Even when I stood in her way, she was watching him too. It was only when she was on the verge of death, and…well she thought she'd lost you, that she finally fled."

"Can we not talk about that?" the bard said softly. "It's…it's still a sore spot for me. I mean, I'm the one who mopped up her blood."

"Of course, Dandelion." Regis said and then smiled curiously, leaned down and lightly kissed the top of her head. "Her dreams are so wonderful. Well, usually."

"What is she dreaming about? I'm not even going to ask how you know that." The poet said, resigned to the fact that the vampire could do things he just didn't need to understand.

The vampire shook his head, and gave the bard a sly smile. "That, my good friend, is private. Play us another, Dandelion. After that dreadful encounter earlier, your music is a balm to the soul and soothing to the spirit. I'm glad you're with us."

The Witcher agreed and gave his good friend a nod and toasted his health.

"To Dandelion, the greatest bard and greatest friend in the northern kingdoms, possibly the world"


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

It was early in the morning, hours before dawn, when Root opened her eyes and found herself looking up at the inside of their carriage home's sleeping area. The lantern was out, but to her side was the soft glow of a candle. And there was her Regis, quietly reading, as was his custom.

"How did…?" She said softly, remembering the beautiful song and the bards' flirtatious comments to her. "Dandelion."

"Hello, my dear." Regis replied. "Yes, our master musician plays a right powerful lullaby does he not?"

"I think I may bite Geralt in tender places the next time I see him. He told him didn't he?" she asked.

Regis tried not to think about how much that would hurt, but he knew by looking at her mirthful smile that she wasn't altogether displeased, nor serious about hurting the Witcher.

"Oh, come now, my lovely one, can you blame a group of male traveling companions for sitting around a fire one night, chatting about the gorgeous woman in their company and what she enjoys? Of course we spoke about it. And don't you feign surprise, I know your thoughts." He said, running his fingers from her temple to her chin.

She blushed and leaned into his open palm and Regis noticed the slightest movement of her lips and the quick glance at his wrist. So quick that she consciously didn't know she'd done it. The vampire had wondered if it would be hard for her, but he also knew he'd had little to no choice in order to save her life. He too knew that the longing could become unbearable if she went too long without drinking from him, but he didn't think it'd set in so quickly. Regis also wondered if that was because his blood was so potent, or perhaps it had something to do with her own unique nature that she was already craving it. However, he also knew that not talking about it was good, and his love was very easily distracted. He lowered his hand, showed her the open palm, and then with a flip of his fingers, he made a small coin appear, rolled it over his knuckles and then it vanished. Root looked at his empty hand with a face filled with innocent joy.

"You are so beautiful." He said softly, handing her the coin. "Your amazement at sleight of hand is absolutely adorable, Root."

Root held it, trying to see if there was anything unusual but there wasn't. She gazed at him, her green eyes searching and curious.

"Regis, do you…I mean…do you suppose I could resist?" she asked.

The vampire was amused by the question, but humored her.

"That depends on what you'd be resisting, my dear. Could you resist Dandelion's lullaby? Probably. Or perhaps you mean could you resist Geralt's voice." He said, slightly altering his own to the cadence he used to entrance. "Or did you mean could you resist me, my darling?"

Root's eyes glazed over so he lowered his gaze from hers briefly and she woke up quickly.

"How…why does that affect me so much?" she said, blinking and looking at him with wonder.

The vampire smiled. "Well, I sort of have an advantage. My powers are magical in nature and there are few, if any, who can resist them. You fall quickly to my power simply because I am what I am but…also because…well, how do I say this…because you are mine. Remember our bond, my love. In mind and in…well, let's focus on the mind right now."

The woman gazed at him, pondering, remembering the intense feeling of surrendering all that she was to him on the palace bed.

"Of course." She said, feeling her body tingle pleasantly. "I remember. It's just…well then why Dandelion and Geralt though? They don't have your abilities."

"No, of course they don't." he answered. "Ahh, how can I explain this in a way that won't hurt your feelings? Let me begin by stating that you are a very astute, intelligent woman, Root. However, it would seem Nature has seen fit to give you a mind that easily slips into altered states. Lullabies are crafted in such a way that they lend themselves to aiding people in slipping into a trance or dream-like state. And Geralt uses a focus-based technique to distract and then slip in suggestions. Although I'm quite sure just the sound of his voice would be enough to put you into a relaxed, suggestible state."

"Do you think so?" she asked.

"I do indeed. He's no master hypnotist to be sure, but he's learned how to use that deep, gravelly voice to gain an advantage. But as for your question, could you resist? Them? Yes. I believe you could, if you knew what they were doing and actively tried to. Me? Well, I'm not one to say anything is impossible, usually, but in this case I don't think it is possible for you to resist. I mean yes I could allow you to resist but that's…well you see I'm sure. That's allowing you to resist, which isn't really resistance now is it?"

"Can I try?" she asked, softly biting her lower lip.

His dark eyes caught the light of the candle and he smiled, just barely showing the tips of his teeth to her. Regis nodded. "All right. Begin."

The forest maiden looked up into his eyes, but she wasn't sure exactly what to do now that she thought about it. And her eyes were already closed by the time she finished that thought. The vampire chuckled quietly and touched her forehead, waking her. Her green eyes were amazed and playful.

"I…didn't even…Again." She said, sitting up, a look of determination on her face.

Regis nodded. "Why do you resist, Root?" he whispered to her.

"That's not…fair…" she said, her voice trailing off, but he woke her again with a light touch.

"Come on, my dear. Resist. Other vampires aren't going to wake you." He said softly but noticed the look of fear in her eyes. "Oh, now there's no need to be afraid. You're protected from that, my lovely forest maiden. I was teasing you. Now look. Look deeply into my eyes, Root."

Root felt the pull of his will, and Regis let her have enough of her own to push against him, but he knew she didn't really know how to do that either.

"Push with your mind, my love." He said softly, watching her eyes cloud over. "No, no, push back."

"I…I can't…it's too…too much…" she said trying to shake it off, her head slowly falling to her chest.

"It is, my dear." He said, waking her again. "We can perhaps work on it another time. But it is late, well I should say it's rather very early yet. And Geralt will be coming to bed soon as it is my turn for watch. Ah and here he is."

The flap of the carriage opened, letting in a rush of cold winter air so Root pulled the heavy covers up to her chin as the Witcher climbed into the back.

"A very early good morning to you, White Wolf." Root said with a long yawn.

Geralt was exhausted, she could see it in his eyes, and patted the space next to her while Regis kissed the top of her head.

"I'll see you in a few hours. Get some more rest." He said, grabbing his cloak and slipping out the back.

The Witcher stripped off the heavy winter gear, kicked off his boots and got right into bed, laying on his side with Root nestling up to his chest. It was her favorite place to lay with him. He pulled the covers up over their shoulders and she looked at him in the soft darkness.

"Long day for you." She said quietly. "The long ride, and then returning to a drowner fight. My poor hunter."

Geralt gave her a tired smile and let his eyes close while feeling her tuck her head right under his chin, her fingers resting on his chest. Root had a tendency to fidget so Geralt would always know when she had fallen asleep, because her hand would go limp and she had a quiet little snore, like a soft wheeze.

"Geralt?" she said softly.

"Mhm…" he replied, his eyes too heavy to bother opening them.

"I love you." She said and kissed his chest, nuzzling him.

The great hunter traced his finger over her ear, down her neck, shoulder and arm.

"I love you too, Root." He answered, stroking his finger between her closed eyes, feeling her body relax into his.

And they both fell asleep, her quiet soft snore being muffled by his strong body with Geralt's louder rumble filling the carriage.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

As dawn painted the winter landscape in a wash of golden light, Root was up and already fixing a big hot meal for her companions, and she could smell the cooking fires of the elven camp as well. Geralt was still asleep, as was Dandelion, and her Regis had gone on a patrol of the surrounding area. The forest maiden took stock of their food supplies. And while they had plenty of meat due to Geralt's hunting, they were running a bit low on some other staples.

"It'll be simpler meals coming soon I think." She said quietly, turning the sizzling strips of bacon, and then cracked several eggs into the mix. "Oh yes."

Root filled the percolator with water and the dark brown granuales of coffee and set it on the fire grate to begin brewing. She also made sure to put the kettle on for Regis so he'd have hot water when he returned. The woman bustled around their outdoor kitchen and had just plated up their food when the Witcher appeared, stretching and pulling a heavy cloak over his shoulders.

"Good morning, Geralt." She said kindly, motioning to the food. "And coffee should be done soon."

The White Wolf nodded his thanks and took the meal to a seat close to the fire. Regis too came back to camp, his satchel filled with freshly harvested plants.

"We're in luck, my sweet. I found some wild parsnips growing nearby. They should be a welcome addition to our larder I think. And they keep rather well. Ahh wonderful, breakfast. And thank you for the water. Tea is definitely in order. How are our traveling companions this morning? Has anyone spoken to them?" he asked, sitting next to Geralt and Root as they all ate. "And is Dandelion still asleep?"

"I haven't seen him yet." Root replied, wrapping her hands around a hot cup of coffee. "I made some scones as a welcome gift for our elven campers but, I don't think I should be the one to bring them over."

"Why not?" Regis asked, forking bacon and eggs into his mouth.

"Well, because they all know…and…well I don't want to…" she began.

"I think you should bring them." Geralt said. "It'll do them some good to see a werewolf who acts well. They've had a bad experience or two with monsters recently and could use a different perspective."

"Well…OK." She said and got up after finishing her food.

The forest maiden packed several of the fresh, hot scones into a cloth-lined basket with a small dish of butter and wrapped a flour sack towel around it, tying it at the top handle. She then put her hood up and set off to their small camp, which was really just about fifty or so feet from their own. It was a small group of just six tents, one of which was marked with the symbol of a tree and she supposed that was the leader's tent, the man she'd seen last night with the intense blue eyes. There were a few people tending the cook fires, and they smiled when she approached. In addition, there were some children awake as well, a few of whom came up to her, including the girl from last night.

"Bleidd beanna!" she said to the other children, all of whom looked up at the hooded woman with amazement.

"Cera." Spoke a soft voice. "Forgive her, mi'lady. Cera, don't point at people like that."

A slender elven woman approached Root dressed in a dark green heavy gown with a white fur trimmed cloak secured at the shoulders. She had red-brown hair and dark blue eyes.

"No, it's fine. I quite understand why it would be amazing from a small one's perspective. It's quite nice to not have people afraid of me." Root said kindly.

"I share your sentiment. There are many who see all elves as no better than bandits. Pardon me. My name is Valonna. Cera is my daughter. I'm honored to meet any friend of the great Geralt of Rivia. We are grateful to be accompanied by him and hope to be no burden to you all." The elf said with a polite incline of her head.

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Valonna. I am called Root. I've brought you a gift. Fresh made this morning."

The elven woman accepted the basket of baked goods graciously and turned to look at the small group of children who'd congregated around her. They were all looking at Root with wide eyes and whispering.

"Oh, all right." She said, giving them a wink. "Hold on."

Root went off behind a tree while all the children waited around the fire, some standing on tiptoe trying to see. The big cocoa colored werewolf emerged and there were gasps from the children and squeals from some who hid behind Valonna's heavy skirts. She kept her head down, her tail low and slowly walked back over to them, sitting on her back legs.

"Oh my…" Valonna said, putting her hand to her chest. "Forgive me but you are imposing. But your coloring is simply beautiful. I can't recall seeing a wolf with such fur ever, and we've seen more than a few."

Root lay down in the snow and put her head down as the kids slowly made their way over. Cera reached out and put her hand on Root's muzzle so she licked her, causing her to giggle. The little girl patted her and the werewolf rumbled quietly. Soon the other children were gathered around her, patting and stroking.

"Get away from there!" spoke a harsh voice, one Root recognized as belonging to the leader of their group.

The children looked over as the elven man approached and Valonna looked at him curiously.

"Keep them away from that creature. Do you understand me?" he said, his blue eyes blazing as he looked at Valonna.

"But why? She means us no harm, she travels with the White Wolf." The elven woman said. "And she brought us a kindly gift for breakfast this morning. The children are just curious is all."

The man turned his fierce blue eyes onto the werewolf who'd slowly sat up and rested on her hind legs.

"You stay away from my children. I catch you over here again and I'll skin you." He said with a snarl.

Root's confusion was obvious as she turned her head and folded her ears back.

"Errol!" Valonna said sharply. "What a horrid thing to say to the woman who travels with our guide! I won't stand for that. Apologize at once."

"That's not a woman!" he barked at her. "Look at it! Get out you filthy animal!"

Root slunk away, picked up her clothing in her jaws and made a wide circle back to the carriage, her sad whine making Regis just about boil, as if the snow around him would melt. Of course the two had heard what was said. Geralt rose and walked over to Errol and Regis could tell there were nasty words exchanged, albeit very quietly as there were small ears about. The elven man cursed but eventually crossed his arms and nodded his head.

But the little girl Cera just looked up at the man Errol, stuck her tongue out and raced back over to Root, wrapping her arms around the werewolf's furry neck and planted a kiss right onto her muzzle.

"Good bleidd." She said and hugged her.

Root rumbled happily and was soon buried in children hopping up on her shoulders and pushing her over into the snow. She rolled over and they climbed on her belly, scratching her like she was a giant puppy. Dandelion came out of his tent and paused mid rubbing the sleep from his eyes, beholding quite the scene. A pile of elven kids dressed in heavy winter furs were running around in the snow with a large brown wolf giving them rides on her back in turn. He shook his head, pulled up his own cloak, and sat down next to Regis, pouring a cup of coffee.

"Huh, you don't see that every day. Morning, Regis. Sorry I overslept a bit there. Did I miss breakfast?" the bard asked, sipping his drink.

"Got your plate right here, Dandelion. Geralt just went and had words with Errol. Apparently he's got a great dislike of werewolves and just said some rather hurtful words to our Root. But she seems fine now, as the children simply ignored his order to stay away from her and decided pile on the wolf-woman was a better way to spend the morning. And I quite agree." Regis said, lighting a smoke.

The bard accepted the plate of food and ate hungrily, washing it down with the hot coffee. "What did he say?"

"Nothing worth repeating." Geralt grumbled, sitting down at their fire. "And he won't be saying it again without losing their guide."

"Ah I see." The bard said. "My that was good. I just wolfed that down. Oh…wait…ah never mind. Pardon me, gentleman."

Dandelion rose and made his way toward a nearby grove of trees and Root saw him. She got up from the pile of kids and waved her paw at them as they ran back to their camp with happy smiles. Valonna smiled at her too and gave her a very apologetic look. The werewolf dropped into a crouch and slunk around the carriage, checking which way the bard was facing. Dandelion stood in the copse of trees, doing his early morning business and giving it the ole shake off.

"Cold out this morning. Eeesh." He said, buttoning his pants.

The werewolf was right behind him, downwind. A giant brown wolf on all fours, her head lowered and ears back. Dandelion turned and just about wet himself as she leapt forward and buried him in the snow.

"AHHH! It's not my fault, Root! Geralt started it. I just…I had to try. Oh jeez…Geralt!" he called as the werewolf turned her green gaze onto the Witcher.

Geralt looked over and saw the massive form of the werewolf racing toward him. He got up and ran toward her, the two colliding in an embrace and she pinned him to the snowy ground. Root put her paws on his legs, holding the Witcher down and looking rather satisfied with herself for doing so.

"Yes, yes I told them, you silly woman." He said playfully, pushing her muzzle away. "It's not like you don't want them to know."

The werewolf grumbled and rolled her eyes. Geralt flexed, lifted the wolf and rolled out from under her. Root was impressed by his strength and circled around, the two waiting for a moment to pounce.

"Come on, monster." Geralt said with a smirk. "Show me what you got."

She lunged at him, and she was lightning quick, but he was faster and dodged, giving her a light boot to the backside. The werewolf was stunned by his speed and agility and turned, looking to strike back but he'd already circled around.

"Way too slow!" he said, enjoying her comical look of confusion, turning like she was chasing her own tail.

She'd never seen the witcher move so quickly, even during the drowner fight. The werewolf found it amazing. Root kept her eyes on him the whole time, circling while Dandelion and Regis stood close by, watching the two spar.

"We know one of your weaknesses." Geralt said softly, glancing at Regis. "You may be powerful in this form, but we can change that."

Root turned her green eyes to her lover who only smiled at her with pursed lips, his expression guarded and revealing nothing. She stalked toward the vampire, turning her back on the witcher. Amused, Regis crossed his arms and turned his gaze on her. But Root closed her eyes and relied on her sense of smell instead of sight.

"Oh, well done." He said, easily side-stepping as she leapt toward him. "Of course I don't need to actually have you see me, but still, well played. That would definitely help you in a real fight against someone with sight-based attacks."

Geralt crept up and pulled her back legs out from under her, landing the wolf in the snow with a wuff and then pinned her to the ground. She was strong though, and went to get up but he placed two of his fingers right into a pressure point at the base of her skull and down she went, her body momentarily paralyzed.

"Guard that spot in a real fight, Root. You'd be dead by my silver sword by now." He said sliding off her back.

Slowly she regained feeling in her limbs and the forest maiden rose and shook her body. She nuzzled the White Wolf's hand and shifted back to her human form, climbing into the carriage before the children saw her nakedness. A moment later she emerged, dressed, and joined the men at the fire.

"Well, good morning, Dandelion." She said playfully, giving him nudge with her shoulder. "Thank you for the lovely lullaby last night."

The bard smiled. "Tis' my pleasure, Root. And, by the way, it's not just any lullaby. I…I actually wrote it for you. So it's your lullaby now. And I'll play it anytime you like."

The forest maiden melted and leaned on the bards' shoulder.

"Thank you." She said. "I look forward to hearing it again soon."

As mid-morning approached, the whole company was up and about so Root got up, slipped off her cloak and rolled up her sleeves.

"Well, gentlemen, I think today has to be cleaning day. Our clothing should be washed and our bedding aired out and turned as well. So if you could each get a fresh set of clothing and leave your dirty ones by the wheels, I'll get the soap and bring them to the river." She said and hopped up into the back of the carriage.

Root latched the flap so it stayed open and started shaking out the heavy blankets, furs, and cotton sheets of their sleeping area and then brought them to a sturdy couple of branches and hung them there to air out. Geralt grabbed their axe after changing, packed up a few scones into Roach's saddlebag, and headed toward the treeline to replenish their firewood supplies.

After Regis and Dandelion had both changed clothes, the bard piled them all up in a bundle while Root grabbed the chunks of soap from the storage and the two headed to the water. The vampire decided he would busy himself with taking inventory of their supplies, checking to see if there was anything they absolutely needed right away and whether a trip back to Vizima was required.

It was chilly work, but the sun was shining and the sky was a lovely blue so it made the winter day enjoyable. As she and Dandelion washed the clothes and rinsed them, the wet fabrics would begin to freeze and soon they had frozen piles of clothing around them, laid out flat on the surrounding snow.

"We will want to build another fire to dry these." Root said after a good two hours of washing at the river.

The woman stood up and stretched after kneeling for so long and happened to glance in the direction of the grove she'd met Caranthir in. She shook the thoughts from her head, but the poet had seen her moment of sadness.

"Geralt said he gave him quite the mark the other night. I doubt we'll see them soon, Root." He said, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get back and warm up. My hands are numb from this icy water."

When they returned, the bard built another fire over by where the bedding was hanging out, and using some twine from the carriage, Root set up a clothesline, using the carriage as one post and one of the sturdy trees they were parked by for the other. Soon their clothes were thawing out, dripping, and then drying nicely with Root, Regis or Dandelion keeping the fire fed. As noon rolled by, the vampire unpacked their kitchen and began preparing a simple lunch of cold turkey sandwiches. Meanwhile, their elven companions had much the same idea as they, and a type of work song drifted towards them, sung in hen ilinge, as they all worked together, including the children, to make their camp clean and well stocked. At one point, Valonna came by with a woven basket smelling of fish.

"A gift for a gift, bleidd beanna Root." She said kindly. "We have a few traps and trotlines out in the river so if you're in need, please don't hesitate to ask. And I apologize for Speaker Errol's words earlier. Please forgive him."

Root graciously accepted the gift and nodded. "Already done, Valonna. And if we can provide you with anything, let us know."

The elven woman nodded and returned to her people.

"I'll prepare these, love." Regis said, taking the basket of fish and grabbing the filet knife from the storage. "And we're still quite well stocked for essentials with plenty of meat, bread, good hard cheese, salt and butter. I also found some dried jerky and fruits too. We're running a bit low on eggs, fresh milk and flour, but we should be just fine for a bit yet. I don't think a trip back to Vizima is needed. We should refill our water though."

Root nodded and she and Dandelion grabbed the two five gallon containers they used for clean water and set off back to the river. As the afternoon wore on, Geralt came back to the camp with Roach pulling a makeshift sled laden with split firewood. The Witcher was drenched in sweat and had removed his heavy cloak. Everyone came to help unload, dividing the wood between the two camps per his instructions.

As the sunlight began to wane, Root scented the air and knew that snow was coming soon. She checked on their clothing and everything was dry so she packed everything into its appropriate place in the carriage, and then was helped by Dandelion in getting the heavy skins back onto the tiny bedroom floor, followed by the furs for softness, covered by the sheets, and finally the warm, heavy wool comforters they used for blankets.

She sighed heavily. "Ahh that feels so good. I do love clean bedding. How's your tent, Dandelion? Do we need to freshen that up?"

"I've already shaken out the bedding and had it airing during the day too. All set. Whew, I'm beat." He said, downing a canteen of water. "Mmm and it smells like Regis has supper going."

The surrounding area was filled with the sounds and smells of a busy camp, and as early evening fell Regis served them all delicious breaded fish fillets fried to a beautiful golden hue in the cast iron, with a generous portion of chopped and boiled parsnips drenched in velvety butter. Everyone ate hungrily after such a long day of hard work. When finished, Root got up and took the dishes to their kitchen to clean up.

Regis lit his pipe, passing the spare to Dandelion along with the herb pouch, while Geralt checked his armor for any needed repairs, rubbing his shoulders from time to time. The forest maiden cleaned everything up, latched all the drawers and tables securely, and then poured fresh water into their spare kettle, setting it on the grate. She grabbed a clean flour sack towel and, holding the corners, filled it with some dried chamomile, lavender and rose petals from their herbal collection. Root then tied the towel closed with the herbs inside, grabbed a large bowl and waited for the water.

"My goodness what a day." Regis said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "It sure feels good to get all that done. I know someone who will sleep very well tonight."

Root didn't miss his wink at her and she blushed. "I think we all will. Geralt, would you come with me?"

The Witcher was satisfied with the condition of his armor and so followed Root into their carriage bed. She set the bowl, kettle and herbal towel on one of the chests and latched the flap shut.

"It's a little early for bed isn't it?" he asked in his deep, sexy voice.

"Not bedtime. Just some good relaxation and help for you." She said. "Remove your shirt and lay on your front please."

Geralt did so, while Root filled the bowl with the steaming water and then gently pressed the flower filled towel into it, making a warm herbal compress as it absorbed the water. She squeezed it out and the White Wolf groaned as she pressed it to his sore shoulders, aching from chopping all the firewood that day. Root parted his long white hair at the neck, and worked her strong fingers into his muscles, massaging away the tension.

"Oh, you magnificent woman…" he said softly, turning his head to rest on the pillow.

Root smiled and reheated the compress by soaking it in the hot water again and then pressed it to the back of his neck. She straddled his lower back and kneaded her palms into him, working her way slowly up his spine, rolling her thumbs in circles, her fingers expertly finding the knots and easing them into release.

"My hunter." She said softly, leaning down and kissing the middle of his back.

Root tended to his every muscle; rubbing, stroking, kneading and soon the witchers' body was loose and relaxed. She laid the compress over his eyes as he rolled over.

"There you go." She said, sitting next to him and covering him with the blanket.

Root lit the lantern, kissed him and let him rest. She hopped out of the carriage to find Regis and Dandelion playing a game of Barrel while enjoying a smoke.

"That's another win for me, bard." Regis said. "You can't beat four hundred years of skill, my good man."

"Whatever, vaaa…I should probably not say that. Hey, Root. You want to play?" Dandelion asked motioning to the cards.

"Oh, no thank you." She said with a long yawn. "I need some of that coffee. Please continue though, I'd like to watch."

While Geralt relaxed, the three chatted pleasantly about the rules of Barrel, which Root found ridiculously complex and couldn't be bothered trying to figure it out. The elves were making music at their camp, and a few of them were doing a circle dance around a fire with the children playing nearby, having their own version of fun and merriment. It was a good day indeed.

"And I win again." Regis said, tapping out his pipe.

"I don't get it." Root said, sipping her coffee. "Who came up with this?"

"The dwarves invented it." Geralt said, joining them at the fire. "Regis kicked your ass again did he? Deal me in. You're going down old man."

Regis' eyes caught the glow of the fire. "Is that a challenge? Are you sure? I mean you're the one with the white hair, my friend."

Dandelion laughed as did Root while Geralt simply smirked. "Laugh it up you two. Just watch as I decimate this poor sod. Remember, Zoltan taught me this game. And no one, no one beats that dwarf at Barrel."

"We shall see." Regis said, shuffling the deck and dealing.

The sun sank into the horizon, painting the sky with dark purples and blue. And the group continued to play cards, with Geralt breaking out a bottle of dwarven spirits.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

"You drink whiskey right, Regis? I mean it's just that "other alcohol" you don't consume isn't it?" Dandelion asked, tossing back a shot. "Oh, damn that's good. Bit of cinnamon in there I think."

The vampire grinned. "Indeed, master bard. Which of us can hold our liquor the longest do you think? Root, would you like some?"

"Sure." She said, having never tried whiskey before.

The bard poured her a shot and she went to sip it.

"No, no, no." the poet said, waving his hand. "All in one go. Like this."

Dandelion slammed down another shot and nodded to her. She looked at Regis and Geralt, who both were watching, curious. Root drank the shot and screwed up her face right weirdly before swallowing. Her companions howled with laughter before she too erupted into cheerful giggles.

"That is…awful!" she said, handing the shot glass back to Dandelion. "No more."

"Careful, Root, booze can make you very sleepy." The bard said and she shoved him playfully.

"Stop that!" She teased, her cheeks flushing.

"All right you two. Dandelion, am I dealing you in? Regis?" Geralt asked, shuffling the deck.

"I'm in." the bard said, pouring another shot.

"I'm out, gentleman." Regis said, rising. "Root, would you like to go for a walk?"

She nodded and joined the vampire, linking her arm into his.

They walked together along the edge of the cliff side, keeping the camp in sight, and both enjoyed the quiet stillness of the snow covered landscape as the waxing moon began it's ascent into the sky. In the far distance, a wolf howled, followed by the beautiful, haunting cacophony of a whole pack. Root closed her eyes and leaned into Regis as they stood looking out over the valley.

"What a long day." She said quietly as Regis put his arm around her.

"Indeed. We got much done today. It's wonderful not having anywhere we need to be, nothing we need do but provide for our own happiness and desires. I could live this way forever." Regis said quietly.

"And we can." She replied, kissing his cheek. "My immortal Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy."

Regis closed his eyes, loving the sound of his traditional vampire family name rolling off her tongue so easily. He also felt the forest maiden pulling energy from his body, so he knew the day's activities had definitely exhausted her.

"Can you feel that?" he asked, turning to her, lacing his fingers in hers. "Do you know what you're doing right now?"

Root shook her head, she was totally unaware. Regis lightly touched her cheek with his hand.

"Go into trance for me." He said softly, gazing at her. "No, don't sleep. I know that's what you are used to. Just…there, lightly beneath your normal consciousness. Yes, that's right. Hold it there. Now…notice the energy flowing from me into you. Put your attention on where you draw it in. Your mind knows, your blood knows, Root, just find it. Where is it?"

"My hands." She said quietly.

He nodded. "And where do you store it inside yourself? Where does it go?"

Root's eyelids blinked slowly as she searched inside herself. "All over, but mostly in my chest."

"Very good, Root. Now I'm going to wake you, and I would like it if your mind would bring this part of who you are, and what you do, to your conscious mind. Would you do that for me?" he asked.

"Yes." She answered.

Regis touched her forehead and she blinked, her mind filling with images, sensations and memories of having drawn energy from others and taking it into her own body. And she became aware that she was pulling energy from Regis right at that moment, but she couldn't stop it.

"I…I…how do I…" she said but he touched her shoulder, gazing into her eyes and calmed her.

"It's fine. You can't hurt me. Just fill yourself with all you need and we'll work on controlling it together." He said, embracing her.

Root put her hands on his chest and he felt her pull energy directly from his heart. He wondered if she did that to anyone else if it'd kill them outright. The vampire also noticed that her skin did indeed seem to give off a slight glow. When she looked up at him, he too saw in her a great hunger and desire.

"No, my dear. I cannot allow it. You've had much within a very short time. I was reluctant to give you more during your cycle, but felt you needed it." He said stroking her face.

Root nodded her head, understanding. Regis then felt her energy draw taper off and her whole being seemed radiant but he also noticed she was tired from the effort.

"Interesting. So while your power replenishes your body's energy, doing so is also costly to you in another way. How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like I ate too much. That really full, stuffed feeling, like after a big meal. I feel like that, like I could take a nap." She said with a big yawn.

"Then let us return." He said. "From now on though, draw from me and me alone. The others cannot endure such a long feed without some damage to their health. No, no don't be concerned, they're fine. You saw them earlier. But now you know, so come to me if you need to feed."

"Yes, I will, my love. Thank you for helping with this. I'm still so confused." She said, yawning sleepily.

The couple returned to camp to find Dandelion passed out and snoring while leaning up against the wagon wheel. And Geralt whittling a piece of wood. He glanced up and Regis nodded to him.

"She's fine. I'll explain later." He said. "Up you go, darling."

The woman was practically asleep on her feet, barely conscious enough to undress, so Regis had her lie down and she was already snoring softly by the time he got her boots off.

"Very curious." He said quietly while covering her, leaving her fully dressed.

He extinguished the lantern and climbed out of the carriage, joining Geralt at the fire. The Witcher took swig of his beer and looked up at his friend.

"What's on your mind?"

"Well, it was a very interesting experience we just had. When walking together, I noticed that Root had started to draw energy form me. Which of course makes sense, we all worked very hard today and expended much. So I asked her if she could feel it, if she knew what was happening." Regis began.

"Did she?" Geralt asked, sheathing his knife.

"As expected, no, she didn't. So using my connection to her mind, I put her into a trance and had her find where she draws in energy and where she puts it. When I woke her I asked if she would remember consciously what she was doing and how, and she agreed to do so." He continued. "She draws the energy with her hands and while it replenishes her whole body, Root says it mostly resides in her chest."

Geralt nodded. "That's most likely a symbolic way of thinking about it. Trance states are like that, people make mental images of what they feel and try to find some way to describe it."

"Yes, of course." Regis said, understanding very well how trance affected the human mind and it's most common, shared experiences. "Although for her, it does seem that her hands are the equivalent of…well how do I put this…"

"Your fangs." Geralt finished for him.

"Precisely. Yes." The vampire replied. "A curious thing to consider; if she wore gloves, I wonder if her subconscious would find another way to feed? I mean my goodness, I have fangs to draw blood but I haven't used them for that in hundreds of years. And besides, I could buy blood if I really wanted it. Vampire society being what it is, it's available like any booze is to humans. I wonder if she would find some…work around as such."

The Witcher nodded. "So what happened? She seemed really drowsy when you came back. Which I would normally just put down to you making her that way, but at the same time I could see that she had that glow about her. Like in the cave when…well you know."

Regis began packing his pipe and put the kettle on.

"In the cave she wasn't consciously drawing from me. But just now, when I made her aware of it, she was nervous at first because she couldn't control it. So I told her to draw on me for what she needed. Well, she…kind of gorged herself. That was my fault. I didn't consider how hungry she might've been and that most likely her ability wouldn't shut off until she could literally hold no more. And it turns out that if she feeds too heavily, it makes her really, really lethargic. Like a lioness; full, fat and ready to snooze it off. I barely got her into the wagon and lying down before she was snoring." He said, lighting the smoking blend, puffing and waving out the match. "Adorable to be sure, but still, I should've foreseen that."

Geralt was reflective for a moment, gazing into the crackling fire.

"I suppose that's good though. She should be sated for a while don't you think? We won't have to worry about her feeding on others?" he asked.

"Well, now that she's aware of what she's doing, I told her to come and feed from me when she feels it happening. Until she can regulate it on her own and control how much she draws." Regis replied, dropping the herbs and plants into the boiling water.

"Yes, of course, but we still don't want her to feed from us without consent even if she can regulate it. It's…kind of a violation, Regis." Geralt said.

The vampire nodded. "I understand how it would feel that way. Ah, let me explain. Her nature is not like mine, Geralt. My species does not need to consume blood and thus when we drink from others, it is for our own pleasure and gratification. Like the consumption of a vintage wine. However, in Root's case, it definitely seems like other beings' energy is a food source, and a necessary one for her own health and well being. Is the mosquito violating you when it feeds on your blood? Is the wolf violating some ethical standard when it kills the fawn for the packs' supper? Many, if not most, would say no. But that is, of course, an argument from authority and somewhat fallacious I grant you."

The Witcher didn't like discussions that went back to philosophy, ethics or religion so he grumbled and just stared into the fire for a bit. Then he said, "Are you saying if she killed someone by feeding that she wouldn't be responsible; that we should excuse that as a wolf taking a deer for its meal?"

Regis shook his head. "No, no of course not. She's chosen to travel with us and thus within the realm of human and elven cities and their ethics, and thus is bound by them, at least to some degree. Just in this interim where she doesn't understand her power or even what she is. I'm just saying be patient with her. If you feel her draw on you, just tell her politely and she'll come to me. I do wonder about Dandelion though, if she's fed from him. I kind of don't think so, what with me and you around, she'd most likely feel no need to feed from our bard friend. Which is good as dear Dandelion seems to be a man of weaker constitution."

Geralt was silent for a while, listening to the soft sound of elvish harps as the campers whiled away the evening with music. And a light snow began to drift from the wintry sky.

"I know what you're thinking, Geralt." Regis said, pouring his tea. "I've seen that look on your face before."

The Witcher sighed heavily. "I just don't want anyone to be in any danger because of…because of her. And…I don't want her to be in any danger either. It was different when she didn't know. I'm supposed to protect people from things like that."

"Was it so very different though?" the vampire asked, sipping. "You yourself said she'd feed on you only infrequently, yes? Why would you think she'd suddenly feed more? She couldn't control it then either. Does her knowing really change things that much?"

Geralt nodded. "I see your point but yes, it kind of does change things. What if she can't stop herself?"

"She couldn't before, Geralt. You worry too much. But as I said, just send her to me when or if you feel it. Root can still control her actions and it does seem like touch makes the draw more powerful. If she isn't touching you, it's probably only residual energy on the very outside of your auric field that she's consuming." The vampire explained. "And human beings sap that from each other all the time and no one gets ill, let alone dies from it."

The White Wolf conceded with a nod.

"The greater concern is another matter altogether." Regis said.

"Oh?" Geralt replied, getting up to put another couple logs onto the fire.

"We've not spoken about what happened in the cave." The vampire said quietly. "I'm not some miracle healer, Geralt. You have some idea of how I saved her, yes?"

"I try not to think about it. No offense, old friend, but the idea is revolting to me." Geralt said, sitting back down while the bard coughed in his sleep.

"I understand. But it was all that was available to save her life. Surely you don't…"

"Of course not." Geralt said, his golden eyes fierce. "I love her too, Regis."

Emiel Regis nodded and spread his hands up apologetically. "Forgive me. I know you do. However, as revolting as it is to you, it is a deep bond between she and I. One of the most profound exchanges my kind can engage in and share with another. I'm sure you know of a human equivalent? Well, imagine that times the highest number you can think of. That is how deep the bond goes. An _eternal_ bond."

The Witcher looked at his friend with amazement. "Eternal? You mean…Root is immortal now?"

Regis nodded. "So long as she drinks from me she will not die. Well, not of natural causes. Like myself she could still be killed. But it was my blood that gave her body the ability to swiftly heal from her many wounds, resetting the bones of her shattered legs before my very eyes. And as she fed from my opened wrist, she also began to draw energy from me, doubling her intake of nourishment. And as you saw, she was radiant and flawlessly healed within a very, very short period of time. But…that came with a cost."

Geralt listened.

"The blood of the higher vampire is…potent. To say the least. Imagine the most powerful drug and multiply that by about twenty. If Root goes too long without my blood, she will begin to have side effects. So while our bond is eternal, which brings joy to me, I am also bound to her lest she descend into a very sad state of hunger. And no other beings blood will satisfy her. But…"

"That won't stop her from trying to satiate herself with it out of desperation. Like a thirsty man at sea thinking the salt water is helping." The Witcher replied with a nod. "Which makes her energy feeding sound like a pleasant experience you'd choose any day of the week."

Regis was very serious as he looked at the Witcher. "Geralt, if…should anything ever happen to me…you will have to…"

"Don't ask me, Regis. I couldn't do it. I couldn't turn her over to Falithe. There's no way I could…"

"Would you rather watch her descend into madness from thirst? You'd have to lock her away for certain, to keep her from hurting others. Surely you see that death would be preferable to that?" the vampire said quietly. "And I know my dear Root. She'd want you to slay her if it came to that."

"But if she went long enough without your blood, wouldn't she…you know, snap out of it? Wouldn't her body eventually get over the craving?" Geralt asked.

Regis shook his head. "No. It's not like the drunk who wants another bottle, Geralt. Even some of the plants she and I have both used for medicine pale in comparison to the potency of higher blood. The cost of sharing this bond is high, very high. And so it is enacted very rarely. I mean, have you ever even heard of such a thing? No, you haven't. Because we cannot afford to allow even one of the people bonded to us to go without drinking too long. They'd expose us, or worse. And what they experience when they cannot drink is…well it's too sad to explain."

The Witcher stared into the fire.

"Well, anyways, we don't have to worry about that now." Regis said. "And Root doesn't know about that particular aspect of our union. But she is already craving my blood. I thought it would take longer for it to set in, but I've seen it. Happily, she follows my guidance without complaint and seems very content and nourished. Just…now that you're aware, if you see her get focused on something related to blood, just tell me and I'll let her drink. And, I'm sorry to have to burden you with this, my friend. But someone else has to know and being that you are her other mate, I figured you had a right to."

The White Wolf turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "Did you just call me one of her mates?"

The vampire finished his tea and softly laughed at the Witcher's facial expression. "That is how she thinks of us, yes. Root has no concept of the words boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, partner, lover…none of that means anything to her. Or rather I should say all of those words are summed up in the word "mate". So yes, Root sees you and I as her mates, her husbands if you will, and herself as our wife. Although to be fair, she's probably aware of those words and human usage of them, she just wraps them all up in that single word."

"Yennefer wouldn't like that." Geralt grumbled.

"I doubt Yennefer would like it no matter what word Root used for her relationship with you." Regis said. "But if I may inquire, does it matter what Yennefer would think?"

Geralt looked at his friend. "It will always be Yennefer, Regis. If I have to choose, it will always be her. Happily, I don't have to choose and Yen would never make me. So it doesn't matter."

The vampire nodded. "I understand. Root thinks much the same in fact. In her mind, I am her alpha male; her first chosen. And you're the beta. I'm sorry if that wounds you a bit but that's how it works in her lupine mind. And if she had to choose, she'd choose me. But as you said, she doesn't have to choose either. And is thus a very, very happy woman indeed."

The Witcher nodded. "Thank you for telling me, Regis. About everything. And I apologize if I was cranky or short with you. We'll figure this out. And hey, you're like impossible to kill so I'm not worried about taking responsibility for her. You and I will do our best to keep her fed, help her learn about her abilities, and it'll be fine. I know it will."

"Good man, Geralt. My thoughts exactly. So why don't I take first watch tonight and you go crawl into bed with our wife?" he said, rising to get more water.

Dandelion woke up just then and stretched. "What? Who's wife? Who's getting married?"

Geralt and Regis exchanged looks. "Never mind, Dandelion. We'll explain another time."


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

As deep night fell upon the land, a strong snow squall brought blinding white out conditions to the camp, with everyone's fires going out within minutes, forcing all to take shelter. Geralt, shielding his face against the driving snow and ice, untied the horses so they wouldn't be buried, allowing them to roam as they willed, knowing they'd stay close to the group. And as per usual, Roche's chestnut just seemed to take the whole affair in with a lazy look around as if to say, "What's the big deal?"

"Dandelion!" Geralt called over the wind. "Come on! In the carriage, it's too cold."

The bard pulled his heavy cloak on and made his way to the back of the wagon while the Witcher took some heavy rope and lashed the front and back of their carriage home to the two trees on either end, ensuring that they wouldn't roll and wind up in the river. His fingers numb with cold, he looked out over the area, trying to see anything at all, but everything was a blur of snow, including the elven camp. He leapt up into the back of the carriage, which was a bit crowded with Regis sitting up on the row of chests along the right, Dandelion on the left and Root, still sleeping, in the middle.

"How does she sleep through this?" the bard asked, rubbing his hands and putting his fingers near a candle.

Geralt kicked his boots off after latching the flap and Regis struck a match and lit another pillar candle. A mighty gust of wind rocked the wagon, but the heavy canvas held firm and they barely moved.

"It's terrible out there. I can't see a thing. We're going to have a lot of shoveling to do." Geralt said, sitting down in the space at the foot of the sleeping area.

"We'll manage. Although I'm guessing you're missing that nice, warm palace bed right about now eh, Dandelion?" Regis said, glancing up from his book.

"Oh, don't you know it." He replied, rubbing his hands. "Nice cozy fire, soft silk brocade blankets and satin sheets, a fine woman's lips around my cock…yeah, that'd be about paradise right now."

The Witcher grunted and rolled his eyes. "If that's the case, you live in paradise most of your life."

"I do." The bard said with a smirk. "And you're just jealous."

The vampire and the witcher both stopped and looked at Dandelion. Regis then sipped his tea and coughed quietly, turning the page of his book, while the White Wolf just shook his head and took out a small knife to clean and trim his fingernails.

"Don't be daft, Dandelion." Geralt said with a very pleased look. "Regis and I have paradise sleeping right next to us. What do you have? Hm? Who's jealous now?"

Regis grinned. "Ouch."

The look on the bards' face was priceless and all of them couldn't help but erupt into laughter, startling Root. She sat up and as the covers fell from her, Dandelion noticed that her face had the same kind of glow he'd seen before, after the fight in the parlor. It was faint, but a definite shimmer, like sunlight lit her skin from within.

"Oh…hi Dandelion. What…what are we all doing in here?" she asked and then was surprised by the sudden gust of wind that rattled the canvas. "Is there a storm?"

Geralt nodded. "Yes, quite a big one. I didn't want Sir Silk Brocade Sheets to freeze his knickers off so he's in here with us tonight."

"Yeah, yeah. You guys." The bard said, blowing them off with a shake of his head. "Sorry to have woken you, Root. I can sing your lullaby if you want to go back to sleep."

She smiled. "No, thank you. I was just so tired earlier. Must've been from the day's work we all did. I can stay up for a bit."

Root looked over to Regis who nodded to her. "You were practically asleep on your feet after our walk. I'm glad you got some rest."

Regis and Geralt exchanged glances, wondering if Root remembered feeding on Regis' energy at all, or if she was being guarded.

"What are you reading, Regis?" she asked, patting the place next to her and Geralt moved closer so she could lean against him.

The vampire showed them the cover of the old tome. "A treatise on the uses of herbs for medicinal purposes in history, including folk practices of ingesting various species of toadstools for spiritual and magical use."

"I'm already bored listening to the title." Dandelion said with a great roll of his rich brown eyes.

"Me too." Geralt mumbled.

Root looked at the both of them and stuck her tongue out.

"I think that sounds lovely. Will you read to us?"

"I think I'll pass out if he does." The Witcher said, wrapping his arms around Root as she sat between his legs, resting on his chest.

"I think we all know who'll be the one passing out." The poet said, dodging a pillow as she threw it at him. "What?! You know it's true. Regis starts talking and you'll be out. Give it like fifteen minutes tops. Whoa! Candle!"

The forest maiden sent another small pillow in his direction, so the Witcher hugged her and pulled the blankets up to her chest.

"Fine, vampire, we don't have anything else to do to wait out the storm. So yes, please enlighten us about toadstools." Geralt said, kissing Root's ear.

"As you wish." He said and cleared his throat. "Common plants that have found a place in many households consist of those often written off as weeds or a nuisance. The humble Dandelion, for example," Regis said, glancing at the bard. "…is one of the most useful plants in the herbalist's collection. Known for its properties of cleansing the blood, the "teeth of the lion" is, despite its name, gentle and not fierce. It works to heal the digestive system, smooth the release of toxins from the body, and can help in digesting certain foods that may give some difficulty. It can be made into a poultice to sooth skin conditions, including bug bites, and makes a light, refreshing tea."

"Another useful plant is the mighty garlic bulb. Folklore says that garlands of garlic would keep away or repel such creatures as, ahem, vampires…" he paused. "Not true, by the way. Garlic tastes simply wonderful. As I was saying…let's see, yes, vampires and other creatures of the night who would come to feed on unsuspecting victims. But in medicine, the garlic is a strong, potent plant that strengthens the heart and has a wonderful aroma when added to soups and stews. It can be consumed raw but it's recommended in small doses, as the scent can be unpleasant in mixed company." Regis said, glancing at the witcher.

"Great, so Dandelion is a weed and I'm a bulb. Marvelous. Go on."

"One of the most beautiful flowers that should be in every herbalist's satchel is lavender. With various species growing throughout the world, each region has similarities and differences, but most share the same properties. Along with chamomile, lavender has a pleasant scent and is used to induce calm and relaxation in patients. In the home, parents have long used lavender incenses, washes and compresses to soothe colicky children and aid those plagued by nightmares to have a peaceful night's sleep. In fact, the folk tales of many people speak of putting a bundle of lavender flowers under one's pillow to bring good luck, wealth and dreams of one's future husband." Regis said, looking at Root.

"Really?" she said with a yawn. "I used to do that."

"Chapter Two, Toadstools of Field and Forest. The Redcoat. Known also as the Red Death, Vermillion Assassin and the Crimson Vision, the Redcoat toadstool is a common member of the mushroom family familiar to those who live in the deep forests and woodlands. Common though it may be, the Redcoat is to be used with great caution as it is highly toxic to humans, elves and animals of all kinds. While folklore and artwork often depict it being used for a variety of recreational purposes, it is this author's opinion that much of that is symbolic or fanciful, but not literal. The Redcoat is most known for its powerful hallucinogenic properties, causing those who consume it to experience feelings of flight or the leaving of one's body. It induces a state of high euphoria and thus while dangerous in large doses, this property can be helpful in the relief of severe pain as it causes one's mind to detach from the experiences of the physical body, distancing them from even such pains as broken bones. Folk tales often show such characters as witches or faeries being surrounded by these mushrooms, who consume them to acquire magical powers or do supernatural feats. But it is this author's view that while magic is indeed a real part of the world, trivial uses of it, such as Witcher Signs or other folksy ways, are to be avoided. Dabbling is…after all….very, very dangerous." Regis said, looking up from his book.

Root, Geralt, and Dandelion were all asleep, snoring quietly as the snow storm raged around them. The bard was stretched out over the row of chests, using the tossed pillows and a spare blanket to cover himself. While Root was cradled in Geralt's protective embrace. The vampire, who didn't need to sleep, smiled to himself and sipped his tea.

"Good night, my dear friends. Sleep well and deeply." He whispered softly.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

As dawn came, Root slowly opened her eyes and was greeted by the sounds of snoring. Geralt was spooning her backside while Dandelion must've crawled down into the bed on her opposite side and was lying on his back, his arm thrown over his face, mouth wide open. She then glanced up and saw a sight she'd never seen before. Regis appeared to be sleeping. He was sitting upright, leaning on the back wall of the carriage, against where the driving seat would be, with arms folded into his sleeves, and head resting on his chest with closed eyes. The forest maiden gazed at him, adoring the very face of serenity and grace; a matchless majesty in his being even when at rest; and she was his…forever. Her thoughts rested on him for a long time. And then she saw him smile, his dark eyes slowly opening to look at her.

"Thank you, my love." He said softly. "Sleep well?"

She nodded. "And you?"

"Yes. Well, I don't sleep per se." he replied quietly. "But we can enter a sort of trance-like state if we wish. Some of my kin choose to rest in that manner for centuries when they tire of the world. To all others it appears we are sleeping, but we're fully conscious and aware. Just ask the vampire slayer who thinks he's lucky when stumbling across such a "sleeping" elder. Of course you couldn't really do that." He explained.

"Why not?"

Regis' dark eyes seemed to glisten.

"Oh." She said, feeling a tremor run up her spine. "Because none have lived to tell about it."

He nodded. "I've not had an encounter with such a hunter. No, the last one to threaten me was the witcher who sleeps beside you. And good morning, Dandelion"

The bard opened his eyes, groaned as he stretched and put his hands behind his head. "Yep. I remember that night. See this scar, Root? Regis was stitching that up and said something about my blood being clean and having a nice scent. That was when Geralt drew on him."

"Nilfgaardian steel was pressed up against Regis' flesh and I thought he was going to do it. None of us knew, until that moment, what Regis was…erm is. It was Milva who noticed you cast no shadow. But Geralt had figured it out, the comment about my blood being what set him off." The bard said.

Regis nodded. "I remember it well."

"Were you afraid, Regis?" Root asked.

"Of a steel sword?" he replied with a snort. "Goodness no. It was an empty threat and both Geralt and I knew it. It would've hurt yes, but as you know, I cannot be seriously damaged by such mundane means. No, his intention was to drive me off. But turns out I'd become quite fond of him and his friends. And I am not easily deterred."

"That's right. Regis came back to us and…well we all had quite an adventure didn't we." Dandelion said, turning to face the forest maiden. "So, did I really get to sleep with you last night?"

Root turned bright crimson from the tips of her ears all the way to her chest and she hid her face in the pillow. Regis and Dandelion both laughed quietly, while Geralt hugged her to his chest as he woke up. He brushed his stubble against her cheek and kissed her.

"Say the word and the bard is out in the snow." He whispered.

"Already going to beat you to that. Man, I have to pee. And I suppose we better see how much snow we got." The poet said, sitting up, grabbing his cloak, and lifting the back flap.

The snow had made a drift running right up to the back of the carriage and had filled in the space underneath, burying the wheels, such that it looked more like a rounded tent pitched on top of a mound of white. Dandelion just slid down the snow and made for a nearby tree.

Their whole camp was awash in glittering, powdery snow, with the trees around them looking like they were draped in diamonds, shining as the golden light of the sun fell upon the world. The fire pit had been buried, the bards' tent was hardly visible and the elven camp could just as well not be there, the drifts piled so high up against their tent walls as to hide them from view. But the horses were nearby, having taken shelter from the worst of the storm by huddling together.

Root sat up but shivered, it was cold not being nestled up against the warmth that was the Witcher's body.

"I suppose we should see how the elves fared. And dig ourselves out." She said with a stretch, but her green eyes lingered on her vampire love.

Regis did not miss her warm gaze and suggestive smile, and knowing her thoughts made him glance at Geralt and nod to the back door. The great hunter understood, kissed the back of her head and latched the flap closed behind him.

Root couldn't get her hands on her love's face fast enough and she drew him to her mouth, desiring him greatly.

"Be careful, my love." He said. "Mind the teeth."

* * *

The White Wolf and Dandelion stood where their fire pit had been, looking at a heap of snow.

"Well, I suppose we better dig this out first so we can get some warmth." Geralt said. "I'll get going on this. Why don't you go over and check on the elves, make sure they're alright. Maybe they have some shovels."

"Can do." The poet said and headed for the camp, trudging through the knee-deep snow.

After an hour or so, Regis slid down the heap of snow by their carriage, followed shortly by the dark furred werewolf who leapt into the drift. The Witcher had barely made a dent in the snow pile, seeing as the elves didn't have shovels either, so digging their way out of the storm was slow going. That is, until someone with large paws appeared.

Root examined the scene around her, seeing snow absolutely draping everything in sight. But they needed fire, and soon, to warm up and cook food. She sauntered over to the fire pit and softly rumbled to the witcher, nudging him out of the way. The werewolf began working her large pads into the drift, kicking the snow out behind her and using her back legs to make more room. Using her wide, flat head as a plow, she pushed around the pit and soon the logs from the previous night appeared along with the ground.

"Land ho!" the bard said, walking on top of the snow, his bright magenta cloak being brilliant against the field of white. "No shovels, but check these out. The elves had these snowshoes! They're a little clumsy at first, but you don't sink as much."

Both Regis and Geralt strapped on the shoes too and headed for the wood pile since the fire pit was now open. Root made her way over to the elven camp and scented out where their fires were and soon had them all dug out as well, with the bard and several elves making trips to the wood pile for fuel. She noticed Speaker Errol passing her, so Root scooted away, eyeing him nervously.

Root then made the rounds to each of the tents, digging out the entrances and plowing a path with her strong body so they could get around to each others' tents and the cook fires via trails in the snow. She panted heavily, her breath billowing into the frosty air and shook her massive body, sending snow flying toward Valonna and Cera who squealed and laughed together as they got their fire going. The werewolf licked her jaws, satisfied that everyone had been safely dug out, and headed back to her own camp.

Geralt was blowing on some kindling and soon a spark caught, bringing the promise of warmth and light. The werewolf then turned her attention to the tiny home, and with a growl of determination and flick of her ears, she began to dig out the snow so they could open their storage and the kitchen. It took her over an hour to clear enough space so that it could be unlatched, and Regis was there right away, unfolding it and getting out some steel-cut oats and filling the kettles with water to begin boiling.

It was a long, cold morning of hard work but eventually everyone had a fire going again, and the scent of breakfast filled the area. The werewolf then went along the snow paths between the camps, followed by Dandelion in his snowshoes, packing down the snow so that commute around the area was simpler for all. As noon approached, the werewolf's stomach growled hungrily, as she had not yet eaten. But Root didn't feel like changing back, for it was warm and comfortable in her wolf form. So she wandered over to the edge of the river, where the water was still open and the elves were checking on their trotlines, and peered into the icy water. Lifting her snout, she looked over to the elves and saw they were gutting a few silver frostbacks and filleting them right on the packed snow to keep them cold. Root licked her jowls, liking the taste of fish now that Regis had had her try some. She turned back to the water and waited until she saw the flash of a fin dart by and snapped her jaws toward it. There was nothing but water and she shook. The now slightly damp elves peered at her so she growled sheepishly and moved away. She tried again and again but the werewolf was no expert fisher at all. With a wuff of frustration she turned away from the river and looked out over the land. It was white. Glittering, powdery white as far as the eye could see. The tree-line was too far away for her to hunt the woods, and she knew she'd be exhausted trudging through all the snow by the time she got there.

"Root?" she heard Regis say as he walked up to her. "Ah you're warmer in that form. I see. You're very hungry though, my dear. Oh, trying your paw at fishing are you?"

She nodded but grumbled her frustration, swatting the water. He chuckled softly and motioned back to the camp.

"Come. I'm sure we have something for you." He said.

The vampire went into the cold storage, pulled out some of the frozen venison steaks and put them into the cast iron with some butter, setting it on the fire. Root sat in the snow, her jowls watering, eyeing the cooking meat hungrily. Geralt watched her as he enjoyed a hot cup of coffee and Dandelion was getting his tent back in order. When the chill had been thawed from the meat, Regis took the fork and flipped the first one out of the pan and right into the werewolf jaws that snapped closed, swallowing it in one go. He sent another one flying toward her, which she caught and ripped apart, tearing the chunks of meat off and growling to herself contentedly.

"Last one, my dear." Regis said. "A big one."

Root snapped her jaws on it, set the large steak between her front paws and chewed it bit by bit.

"Ah got my tent set up again. Oooh steak. That sounds lovely." The bard said, pouring a cup of tea. "How do you like your steaks, Geralt?"

The White Wolf shrugged. "Well done, usually, depends on the meat. Venison cooks really quickly compared to other meats, so it can be pretty rare and its fine. You?"

"The bloodier the better." The bard said. "Rare to medium rare is good enough for me. How about you Regis?"

But the vampire was focused on the werewolf, who was staring at the bard while she chewed the last bit of her steak, licking her jaws and then began cleaning her paws. Geralt and Regis exchanged glances, with Dandelion looking around in confusion at why they'd gone silent except for the noisy licking sounds of the wolf.

"Erm..yes, Dandelion, forgive me. You know my thoughts on…that. You asked me something similar once before, remember? No need to revisit it." Regis said quietly.

Root finished cleaning herself, got up, shook, and went off toward the elven camp to check on them, giving Regis a nuzzle of thanks as she passed him. Dandelion shrugged and excused himself as well.

"What was that?" Geralt asked quietly.

"That was a small distraction on her part. She's not even aware of doing it consciously and the thought is already gone from her mind." The vampire explained.

"She wouldn't like…ya know…eat anyone would she?" the Witcher asked, glancing over as the elven children decided to attached a harness to the wolf-woman with a sled.

"Good gracious no." Regis said. "Don't be daft. Direct references to blood will fixate her attention for bit. Just change the subject. Root is, as you know, very easily distracted."

The werewolf dashed past the carriage, bearing a sled full of happy elves with a queue of them forming, waiting for their turn. And Valonna watching over them all with a heavy cloak about her shoulders. Speaker Errol had been chatting to a few of the men, and Regis thought he spied the barest hint of a smile on the elfs face as Root did a circle around the camp with the kids, filling the area with laughter.

"I cannot let her drink again so soon. She'll be fine, Geralt. Root trusts me completely and I know she will tell me if the longing gets too much."

Geralt nodded. "I know. That was just weird how she honed in on him. It makes me wonder if Falithe knew the truth of the person he was…desiring." The Witcher said with a quiet snarl.

"Oh, I think he did. What I don't think he realized is how much danger he would be in while around her." Regis said, as Dandelion came back to the fire.

"What do you mean, Regis? Wasn't this Falithe a great mage or something?" the poet asked.

"Falithe aen Caem was one of the eldest and most powerful mages of this age. Sadly, he was the least known. I say sadly because had he received opportunity, he may not have descended into the foul man he was. He could've perhaps helped in the war, for example. But I digress. Dandelion, you heard what Arklan said of our Root, that she is a type of…energy vampire. Remember?" Regis said.

The poet nodded. "Yes, of course."

"Well, imagine if you fed off energy. Who would you go looking for?"

"Ahh. A mage would be a very strong source, yes." Geralt said with a nod, understanding. "Of course she wouldn't have known about that part of herself, unless he told her. I wonder what would've happened."

Regis prodded the fire with a long stick and the flames blazed hotly.

"I wager that he would've begun to lose his power, slowly, over time, as she unconsciously fed from him. As Root would've been a prisoner, her nourishment would've been minimal except of course during the preg…"

"Don't say it." Geralt snapped.

"Sorry. Ahem, yes, as a prisoner she would've been fed very little and most likely very poorly. Which…"

"…would most likely result in her feeding, if that's the right word, from him more and more. And since she'd have been alone with him, he'd slowly begin to age and die." The bard said, his voice somewhat nervous.

"Can we please not talk about her being alone with that sick fuck." Geralt growled, getting up and pacing around the fire.

The bard was quiet and gazed into the fire and Regis noticed it.

"Dandelion, you…you saw her look didn't you." The vampire stated.

He nodded. "Is she…is she going to…"

"No, my dear friend." Regis said with a gentle smile. "Root knows now what she is and I'm going to teach her how to feed. Yes, that's a perfectly apt term for what she does. I'll help as much as I can. I'm no expert but I'm confident with trance work we can make progress. No, she looked at you for a different reason. And before you ask, no I'm not going to tell you."

"That's not fair, Regis." Geralt said. "He's part of the group, he deserves to know. Tell him."

The vampire's gaze was annoyed by the Witcher's commanding tone, but he softened his features and sighed.

"I suppose you're right." He said quietly. "Dandelion, I'm sure it didn't escape you how Root seemed to glow when we returned to the parlor after the fight with Arklan. Part of the reason for that radiance was what we have just been talking about. She had to feed from me quite heavily in order to heal her wounds. Which, we all recall, were many. Root didn't know at that time what she was doing. She was, however, also feeding on a very different type of…energy at that time. Me. More specifically…my blood."

The bard was visibly disgusted by the idea and Geralt kicked him.

"Try to hide your personal reactions, Dandelion. Like you taught, Root." Geralt snapped.

"No, its fine, Geralt. I quite understand. You're not fond of it either, remember." The vampire said.

"Yes, but I also never said anything or…"

"You _did_ say something. Revolting is the word you used as I recall. As I said, it's fine." Regis said, cutting him off. "So yes, it's true, Root drank my blood. It was all we had available to save her life. She would've died without it. And that consumption came with certain benefits and certain costs. For one, she lived. A great benefit to us all, as our Root is a dear friend and partner to two of us. For another, it allowed her to flawlessly heal her body. However, it does come with a cost, and this is what pertains to her looking at you strangely."

"She wants more of it, and I mentioned blood." The bard said, nodding his head.

"You're a wiser man than some give you credit for, Dandelion. Yes, she does. And I will keep her satiated so long as she and I roam this world together. But as her yearning grows, mentioning blood may fixate her attention. Most of the time this will be easy to remedy as…"

"Roo is very easily distracted." The bard said with a grin.

Regis nodded. "Indeed. Now if she sees blood and happens to be deep into the need for only what I can give her, it's possible she may try to consume it."

"But Regis, Root already consumes blood. She eats raw meat at times." Geralt said. "Did you seriously just call her Roo, Dandelion?"

The bard smirked. "I did. I think it's cute. Hey, you get to fuck her, I get to give her nicknames."

The White Wolf couldn't roll his eyes hard enough to express his amazement at the bards' comment.

"Not exactly the best trade-off I'd say. But to each their own." Regis replied, tossing another log onto the fire. "But yes, Geralt, I understand your point. I meant if she were to see like you or Dandelion bleeding, or someone else in the group."

"We can't let that happen! People would freak out." The bard said, lowering his voice.

"Indeed, master bard, we cannot. And yes, people would. But Root isn't ignorant. She knows of this longing, and knows to come to me. Her fixation on you for a brief second was only because she was physically hungry, and you mentioned it. However, for her it was over in less than a second. And we've spent how many minutes now talking about something that she doesn't even remember? Too many. So, be at peace, Dandelion. Roo, as you name her, will not harm you. She knows to feed from me and me alone, unless Geralt allows her to feed from him, energetically that is." Regis said, packing his pipe for a smoke.

The poet got up for a stretch, watching as the werewolf shook the harness from her furry body and waved a paw at the children as they ran back to camp for lunch and naps. She then bounded over to the carriage, changed forms and hopped up into the back. A moment later, a dressed Root came over to the group of men, bundled in heavy winter gear. Geralt noticed that her hair had gotten a bit longer in the few weeks since meeting her, it being long enough to lay lightly on her shoulders now.

"Oh my." She said, warming herself. "Those kids are so sweet. I'm so glad you found them, Geralt. Imagine if they were all alone in this storm. I don't know that they would've made it."

The Witcher nodded. "I'm sure there are a few parents over there grateful that you're wearing their kids out for naptime too. And thank you for digging us out this morning. That would've been slow-going and painful otherwise."

"Those paws sure are handy, Roo." Dandelion said with a wink.

The forest maiden beamed, happy, with green eyes shimmering.

"So, I was trying to think of something I could do to bring us income. And since we have our master herbalist here, I didn't think returning to my humble origins as an herb collector was necessary. So I thought I could make charms, amulets, besoms and other types of things that folk may want to purchase. I could harvest my own plants, or if Regis would allow it, use some of his. I would just need some simple fabric to start, some twine, and a needle and thread." She explained. "Would that be helpful?"

Regis wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her. "It's wonderful, my dear."

"Sounds good go to me." Dandelion said with a nod. "No idea what a besom is but sure, why not?"

The Witcher also nodded. "I'm not one to put much stock into folk tradition, much of it being rank bullshit to be honest. However, the simplest charm used with positive intent harms no one so I see no harm in it."

Root clapped excitedly and squealed. "Oh I have such cute ideas. Geralt, would you maybe show me what the written forms of your signs are? Maybe I could use them and infuse some of their power into the work? Oooh just imagine, an igni fire amulet! I can't wait."

And she dashed off to the back of the carriage, looking in the drawers for some of things she'd need.

"She has got to be the most adorable woman in the world." Dandelion said, getting up to rummage in the kitchen area for a snack.

Regis looked over to Geralt. "She wants you to teach her the Witcher signs. What's next? Take her to Kaer Morhen itself, White Wolf?"

"Vesemir would most definitely not appreciate me bringing a half werewolf, half vampire into that ancient place. Can you imagine her surrounded by men who's only purpose in their life is to slay beings like her?" the hunter replied.

"Actually…yes, I can." Regis said, giving the Witcher a kind smile. "And do you know what I think? I think our Root would show them what you yourself have learned. That not all monsters are harmful, that some men are wicked, and that there is never anything unholy about love."


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

A few days later and the campers were still situated near the river at the top of the switchback. With the incredible amount of snow that had fallen in the last storm, it was pointless to try and force the horses to pull the carriage home along the track of road that would wind its way northeast to Oxenfurt. The road ran through a thin patch of woods as well, and the Witcher, in his wide patrols, knew that they were pretty well snowed in until either the wind blew enough of the snow from the road, or spring arrived. He'd hoped to be somewhat further along, but the season had its own way and deemed that the White Wolf, his companions and the elven travelers would be staying put.

When they finished their lunch of rabbit stew and the bard rose to clean up, Root sat near the fire and took out her small box of sewing materials to start making a new charm.

"I'm glad you saved the pieces of fabric from your gift, Geralt." She said, threading the needle. "They're perfect. And what luck that the builders of this small home thought to include needle and thread in one of the drawers! I suppose every home needs them though. Which reminds me, do any of your garments need mending, gentleman?"

Regis poured himself a cup of freshly brewed mint tea, while Geralt put his feet up and had coffee.

"I've nothing at all, my dear." The vampire said.

"I'm good." The bard called over his shoulder.

"Same." The White Wolf said.

The forest maiden made a small square pouch out of red fabric, and sewed three of the edges, leaving the top part open. She then opened the bag of dried flowers and herbs that Regis had given her and selected some for the charm.

"Let's see, a small cinnamon stick, a few of these cloves ought to be good, ooh and this anise star, perfect. And let's add this crushed oak leaf. There." She said, and began stitching up the top to seal the content within.

When it was closed up, Root took the pouch and soaked it in a small bowl of water, saturating the fabric and the contents within. She then took it out, set it on the top of the log seat and looked to the Witcher.

"Would you?" she asked.

He leaned forward, curled his fingers into the igni sign and let magical fire lick the charm, drying it without burning it, and giving the red fabric a singed look.

"This is perfect!" she said excitedly, and started to attach a cord to the two top corners so that it could be worn or hung. "Thank you, Geralt. I was wondering, might I ask you about one of your signs?"

He nodded. "Of course. I will never again refuse to answer any question you have, Root."

"So I'm not limited to just one this time?" she asked, turning her beautiful green eyes on him.

The vampire laughed quietly while reading a book and the bard came back over to sit with the party.

"Nope. Besides." The Witcher said, returning her flirtatious look. "I know how to silence you."

She blushed. "Yes, well Regis told me that…oh…never mind…"

Root tied the cords into small knots and another fire protection amulet was ready.

"Would you object if I called these witcher approved amulets? People will want to know that the signs cast over them are genuine. Oooh wait, what should I call this business? Well, if it ends up being anything that is." She pondered out loud.

"It would be a great selling point if you told people the White Wolf himself cast the signs." Dandelion said. "I mean he is famous."

"Maybe you should sing over them too." Geralt said with a smirk and a friendly shove. "We could call them Dandelion's Magic Music Charms."

The whole party laughed out loud. "But what was your question, Root?" Geralt asked.

"Well, I know what the aard sign does. That's strength, power to push back your foes and repel them. And igni is of course fire, although I'm using it in a defensive way. And quen, if I'm not mistaken is a ward of sorts, yes? A barrier that keeps things away or out?" she asked, selecting some green fabric from the box to start another.

The Witcher smiled. "Very good, Root. There are a couple others but those are the most well known among the common folk, yes. As for what to call your creations, no need to mention my name. People are enamored of all witchers and their ways. So, I take it you want to know about the axii sign, yes?"

"Why am I not surprised?" Regis whispered quietly, glancing up at her with a wink.

The woman smiled shyly and nodded. "I think I saw you use it once on your mare. It has a calming effect does it?"

The Witcher nodded. "That's the effect it has on animals, yes. There are many generals who enjoy having a witcher in the company so that skittish horses can be calmed and quieted before or after battles. Do you not remember when I used it on you?"

Root stopped her sewing and looked up at him. "No. No, I don't. When was that?"

"After you'd given our man Vernon Roche quite the beating. Not that I blame you, he did hold you at knife point." Regis said looking up from his book.

"You were so enraged that I had to use it to calm you. Otherwise you had the look of, "I'm going to eat you all." in your fierce green eyes." Geralt said, pouring some more coffee.

The forest maiden was reflective, as she did not recall that moment at all.

"When I get into that rage mindset, I must lose some memories." She said. "Well, that explains some of the missing time I had during my youth. But you said that's how it affects animals. What effect does it have on people?"

Geralt and Regis exchanged glances, the White Wolf knowing he couldn't show her, only explain what it did.

"It…influences the mind." The hunter said, leaning forward, resting on his knees. "For a short time, those under its power will even become an ally, rushing into a fight, providing a distraction, whatever you tell them to do."

"Within certain limits though, yes, Geralt?" Regis inquired. "They wouldn't, for example, leap to their deaths or dash into a burning building?"

The White Wolf nodded. "Right. The command has to seem reasonable to the target. The sign will convince them you're a friend. And if you're in danger, a friend will aid you. If the target is a soldier, they should see no reason not fight at your side or even attack a former comrade. Depends on the target."

"Well, you wouldn't have to use that on me then would you. Not in this form anyways." Root asked, filling the green amulet with a dash of coriander, dried basil and sage, pieces of a hawthorn branch and small pinch of soil. "I'm already your friend and ally. No convincing needed there. This one will be a protective charm to keep unwanted guests away and it will "poke" those within the home to leave if they intend harm. Quen please?"

Geralt obliged her and cast the barrier sign over the fabric resting on the log, making the amulet have a slight bluish purple glow around it.

"Oh, I wish that would stay." Root said. "But I suppose it's more subtle this way. And now I'll make an aard one. Hmmm, no black fabric so, let's see..."

"No, I wouldn't need to use it for that." Geralt said, shifting his voice to a quiet, deep whisper. "But I know what I could use it for."

He saw Root smile and bite her lower lip, glancing up at them all shyly.

"Well, could've, Geralt. You can't anymore without being seriously harmed." Regis said, giving Root a nod. "You are well protected from magical influence, my dear. But, you could make an axii amulet, which people could use as a charm for their animals. Imagine the relief during thunderstorms if the cattle within the barn, or the barn itself, were warded by axii."

"That's a great idea, Regis!" she said excitedly and picked through her fabrics to find a good color to go with the calming sign.

"Do you really think people go for this stuff?" Dandelion asked. "I mean I see what you're doing. You're just filling a sewn pouch with some earthy stuff, having Geralt cast a sign over it, and then claiming it does something. How do you know it works or not?"

Root began sewing a purple pouch and reflected on the bard's question. In her life, simple folk ways like sewing charms and using herbs was just how the world worked. The few times she'd interacted with common folk in the deep woods, or even with the elves, no one questioned whether or not it worked, it just did. And that was that.

"A fair question, master bard." Regis said. "Root?"

"I'm not really sure how to reply, Dandelion. In my life, and the lives of many simple folk, this is just as real and powerful as the magic performed by the great mages. It may not be fire flying from our hands, as Geralt has done, or the teleportation magic of Caranthir, so it's understandable how one might question how it works. All I know is that it has power; power from our world, the plants and herbs, power in our minds, our will and intention, and power from the spirits, although I haven't asked any to work with me on these." She explained.

"And don't forget," Geralt said, tossing another log onto the fire. "It's not like Root is forcing anyone to buy these charms. She makes them, infuses them with purpose and the signs, and it's up to others to decide what they think about it. If they don't believe, fine. If they do, great. It's not like she's claiming to work miracles or cures like some of the fools in the marketplaces who are clearly frauds."

"And if I might return a question to you, Dandelion." Regis said, sipping his tea. "Your music is not tangible. It is you applying your skill to a piece of stringed wood. And out comes out a sound that fills the mind and heart with joy and happiness. You put intention into your instrument and your voice, and you inspire, lift spirits, cause some to weep, and even put some to sleep, giving them healing dreams. Do you not agree that such is a power without explanation as well? Seemingly unreasonable?"

The bard nodded. "I sort of see your point. But with music, I'd say people are at least experiencing…something. With these, I don't know. Just not my thing I guess. I meant no offense to you, Root."

Root looked up and smiled. "Oh, Dandelion I'm not upset. I have a lot to learn about all sorts of ways, and I appreciate your question. Well, gentleman, I'm going to have a look around the river to see if I can find any stones or other items for the pouches."

The woman rose, slipped on her mittens and grabbed a small gathering basket from the storage, heading off to the river's edge just behind the carriage home, wandering along its banks. When she was out of earshot…

"You didn't tell her about the somne sign I see." Regis said quietly.

The Witcher raised an eyebrow, impressed. "That one is ancient, fallen out of use for centuries. There are few who know it. But I suppose you've been around for a while so that explains why you'd know about it. No, I didn't mention it. No need to excite her, which it would, and then disappoint her that I cannot use it on her."

"She really goes for that doesn't she?" The bard said, shaking his head and glancing at her. "Well hey, whatever does it for a person. Everyone's got their quirks I suppose, even bedroom ones."

"True." Regis said in response to Geralt. "Although it's not like you don't have other means at your disposal to bring about the same state."

"Indeed." Geralt said. "But I don't want her to feel like we're always teasing her about it. It's all in good fun to us guys. But, you know how women can be and Root is still a woman. She likes it, but let's not make it annoying for her."

"Or hurt her feelings." The bard said, getting up for a stretch.

The vampire gave the White Wolf an amused look. "My good man, I promise you, it does not get old or annoying in her mind. Remember, I can read her thoughts. Although I quite agree we shouldn't hurt her feelings or make her feel silly. If we're honest, my good friends, we all of us have our own fantasies and quirks, as Dandelion says. We just happen to know hers."

Geralt rose and grabbed his twin blades. "Time for a patrol around the area. I'm sure absolutely nothing is out in this snowy wilderness but us but always good to have a look. I'll be back soon, just a short sweep of the area."

Regis nodded and then looked to the bard.

"Dandelion, I wonder if you might help me with something." The vampire asked, marking his page.

"Of course. What's up?"

"Root's thoughts frequently rest on the idea of having a hot bath. Of course we've no tub at our disposal here, but I did have an idea." Regis said quietly, making sure Root was still away from the camp.

Dandelion smiled. "Yeah, she mentioned that to me. What's your idea?"

"I was wondering if you might take charge of keeping the kettles of water hot for just about an hour or so this evening while I give her a nice warm cloth bath in the carriage. I quite understand if that's too weird a request." The vampire said.

"No, no, of course not. Hey, Roo needs it and she's our friend. Well, she's my friend and your…um…and Geralt's too…well whatever she is…You know her relationship with all of us is kind of complicated. But yes of course, just give me the signal and I'll get it going. I'm your man." The bard said happily.

"Thank you, Dandelion. Now, let's me see what I can get started for our dinner." Regis said.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

As the sun began to sink down into the sky, the forest maiden had already made ten of the sign infused amulets, placing them into another small basket wrapped in cloth to keep them covered. She stood near the edge of the switchback with the golden light of the sunset shining on her, eyes closed and drinking in the radiance. Root also felt that familiar longing and thirst within, but she chased the thoughts and images away.

"I must be strong for them." She said quietly to herself. "Spirits of the field and forest, give me strength to endure."

A winter wind blew the heavy green cloak about her and crystalline snowflakes brushed her cheeks, the hood falling, letting her shoulder length brown hair blow in the breeze. The ancient vampire watched her, admiring the way she looked washed in the fading light of the sun. And too he knew her thoughts, knew the woman was wanting his blood badly, but had been hiding it with perfect composure as to not worry him or trouble anyone else. He approached and slid his arm around her waist, kissing her cheek.

"My darling." He said as she turned to look at him. "I think its lovely the crafts that you've made. When we reach Oxenfurt, I'm certain you'll have no trouble selling them for a bit of coin. And it will make people happy. And that is something many could use in our time. A bit of magic and a bit of hope."

Root smiled broadly and rested her hand on his handsome face. She adored his dark eyes, his pale features, and always the scent of the woods lingered on him. Regis leaned into her and they softly explored each others' mouth as the sun at last slipped into the horizon, bringing hues of deep orange and shades of purple to the sky. The woman gently licked one of his fangs, careful not to cut herself and then kissed his lips.

"You cannot know how much that pleases me, Root. That you do not fear me, or shy away from my teeth is so very, very wonderful." He said softly, caressing her face.

"They are a part of you, my love." She replied, gazing into his eyes. "How could I fear any part of you?"

"Oh, Root…" he said, softly brushing his fingers over her neck.

Her green eyes met his gaze and Regis knew that she was inviting him.

"My dear lady, I will not lie, I want to. The memory of your blood, just that tiny amount I tasted to see your past, still lingers. But I cannot. I have to be strong. I cannot give in to the desire to drink from you for pleasure, when you need to drink from me to remain immortal." He said in barely a whisper. "But I adore the scent of your blood and believe me when I tell you that there are many vampires in this world who would love to savor you."

"Please?" she said. "I want you to."

Regis gazed at her, knowing full well that it was her fantasy she was referencing, having no concept of what it would truly feel like to be bitten. He leaned forward and kissed between her eyes.

"Only in your dreams, sweet Root. As I said, one day I may not be able to refuse, but today is not that day. And…it would seem I was right." he said with a smile.

The woman looked up at him and Regis, his face full of wonder, gazed at her as he took a step back, holding her hands in his. The vampire looked over her shoulder, into the east, as an orb of silver began its climb into the sky, rising above where he knew Vizima rested in the darkened valley below.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Root's eyes were confused so the vampire slowly turned her around to face the east, wrapping his arms around her waist. She gasped, looking up into the light of the full moon and yet felt no change. The woman held her hands up and touched her face. No muzzle grew; no fur sprang from her skin. She remained human.

"What…why?" she asked incredulously. "How…how is this possible?"

The vampire held her, softly kissing her ear as she rested against his chest.

"The moon no longer holds sway over you, my dear. The part of your father's curse that you inherited has been done away with." He said.

"I don't understand." she replied. "How?"

"Because you belong to me now." Regis said right into her ear, calming her. "My blood flows through your veins; my will binds your mind to mine. You are more like a vampire now than a werewolf, although you maintain the ability to shift. I wondered if this might be the case but of course had to wait until tonight to see. And I was right. The ingestion of my blood broke the power of forced transformation. I hope this pleases you."

The woman turned away from the moon, turned to face her love, who held her in his arms. And he could tell by her face that there were no words to describe her happiness. There were silver tears on her cheeks and a sob broke from her even as she smiled at him.

"I love you so much." She said, burying her face into his chest. "I can never repay you for all you've done for me. I…how do I…"

Regis held her, stroking her back softly. "One does not repay love with anything but love. Just love me, my dear sweet Root. Love me for all eternity. And when we tire of this world, we shall rest in each others' embrace until we wish to walk the world again."

Root raised her eyes and looked once more to the full moon, relieved and happy that she could stand in its glow without changing. And she wondered.

"If we did choose to rest for that long, wouldn't I still have to drink from you?"

He nodded. "Yes, you would. But the deep trance you'd be in would significantly decrease the desire. However, I would nourish you, waking you when you'd need to feed to maintain your immortality."

"Regis, I…it's…I want…" she said quietly, ashamed that she felt such cravings.

"I know. You're very good to hide it, Root. I'm impressed. It is difficult, no need for shame. I cannot let you drink again though. I know it seems already like an eternity but it's only been a few days, my love. Be strong." The vampire said, running his fingers over her shoulders. "Come. I have something lovely for you planned to celebrate this night. And the others will want to see as well."

As the couple walked back to camp, the White Wolf was returning from his patrol and approached them, a friendly smile on his rugged face, his golden eyes shimmering.

"Something's different about you, Root. I can't quite put my finger on it though." He said and then laughed warmly as the forest maiden leapt up into his arms and hugged him.

The Witcher swung her around and set her gently on her feet.

"I'm very happy for you." He said.

"Dandelion, look!" she said and raced over to the bard who was equally very excited for her.

Geralt and Regis exchanged looks, both men finding her antics to be ridiculously adorable.

"How she manages to be some combination of child-like sweet one minute and then sexually playful to the point of non-resistance is beyond me. I'm assuming your blood has brought this about?" Geralt said, watching her and the bard jump up and down in excitement together.

"Yes. And yes, she is very hard to say no to." Regis said, pulling up his hood. "Root thinks she wants me to bite her. I say "thinks" because, well you know, it's a fantasy thing. She's no real notion of what it'd be like. But she um, she's also invited me to drink from her, which I could do without biting her of course, but she'd prefer the bite. I must say, in four hundred years I've had moments of struggle, but with her…it takes much of my willpower to refuse."

Geralt nodded, knowing how personal an issue it was for the old vampire to not consume blood.

"I wonder if that's part of her unique vampiric nature." Geralt questioned. "You can influence the minds of men with your gaze, putting them to sleep and such. I wonder if her kind exudes some sort of energy that makes refusing them difficult."

Emiel Regis pondered that. "Quite possible, as we know nothing about her people, tribe, however they group themselves. From what little we know, it would seem Root's mother was the only one of her kind in our world; making our forest maiden the only one left, and only half at that. Although to be fair, Geralt, I purposefully enchant others, where as it seems our Root does no such thing. Could she? That'd be interesting to explore."

The vampire and Witcher were pleased as Dandelion took out a pan pipe and played an upbeat song on it as the happy woman danced around their fire like a wild spirit. Geralt imagined seeing her among the elves, dryads and druids of Brokilon forest, perhaps celebrating the summer solstice. Root approached and held her hands out to the hunter, but he politely refused her.

"Sorry, Root, there are just some things an old wolf won't do." He said quietly, so she turned to Regis.

"I would be honored to dance with you. Might it be something a bit slower, master bard?" the vampire said, taking her hand, and raising it to his lips.

Dandelion smiled. "I know just the thing."

The bard then took out his lute and played the lovely tune he'd entertained the Temerian court with. The ancient vampire bowed to her and raised his dark eyes to meet her emerald gaze. He then placed his hand on her waist, and she stepped close, as he'd shown her in the ballroom, and they danced in the light of the full moon, circling the fire slowly.

As Geralt looked on, he saw Speaker Errol watching them from a distance so the hunter approached.

"I must admit, Gwynbleidd, I do not understand the nature of the beast that travels with you. Here the full moon rises, and yet a woman dances before my eyes, unchanged. And there is merriment that is almost tangible. May I ask what has happened?" the elf asked.

"I cannot explain it to you, Errol. Much of what has transpired between us all, she, myself and Regis, is intimate and private. I will say this; my friend is a very skilled herbalist and a master scholar. He's found a way to stop the forced transformations using an extremely rare and unique substance. And that is all I will say about it." The White Wolf explained.

"You are a strange man, Geralt." Errol said, his blue eyes filled with judgment. "I will not lie; I don't trust her because of what she is. Does that make me racist? So be it. But at least with her it's her nature, she can't help what she is. But you? Why are you tolerant of her? Aren't witchers supposed to slay monsters like her? And I'm no fool, you not only let her live but you sleep with her. You both do. It's sickens me. It's like mating with a dog."

The Witcher's hands curled into fists and he closed his eyes as his body began to tremble. But then he remembered Root's words to Arklan aen Caem and he calmed.

"As an elf, I would've thought you'd have much more tolerance toward different people." Geralt replied.

"She's not a person!" the elf snarled, crossing his arms. "And please, we elves don't owe you or anyone else anything. This world despises us and you know it. I don't have time to ponder such concepts as "fairness in light of one's own people being so oppressed". Look at us, Geralt! We are stranded in the wilderness, away from our homes, because of a pogram led against elves! I have to think about feeding my people, my children, when we have already lost so many to sickness, cold and yes, monsters. Monsters like her! And you have the balls to preach to me about tolerance? How dare you?"

The Witcher did have to concede the elf's point about persecution. One could hardly expect one of the most hated and violated groups in the world to be a bastion of kindness and acceptance when they constantly had to be on their guard.

"I understand, Errol." The Witcher said in a calm voice. "We live in a time of fanatics on all sides, with elves bearing much of the brunt of oppression. But Root has taught me a few things since meeting her, and I think you'd do well to learn from her too. If you can, talk to her sometime. Get to know her. She's not the monster you think she is. Good night."

The Speaker began to retort but the Witcher cut him off with a motion of his hand and walked away. When he returned to camp, Regis and Root had finished their moonlight dance and the vampire brushed his fingers through her hair.

"Someone needs a haircut and trim I think." He said. "You know I was the barber-surgeon of Dillingen, well am still, it's just been a while since I've returned to my home there. I would be happy to take my straight razor and cut this if you like. And I have a nice surprise in store for you. Dandelion, is the water ready?"

The bard nodded. "Yes, indeed. Have a few kettles all set."

Root smiled as Regis kissed her nose. "Come."

As they turned, the forest maiden saw the Witcher and he nodded to her, but she could see the frustration in his gaze and composure. But Geralt smiled reassuringly.

"Go on." He said. "Enjoy."

The sleeping area in the back of the carriage was lit by an array of pillar candles, with the lantern turned down low, giving the whole interior a soft, warm glow. A steaming bowl of hot water rested on the short shelf and a stack of clean, white cloths. And Dandelion, being the sweet man and good friend he was, had sprinkled dried flowers around the bowl and on her pillow, scenting the air with the freshness of a summer meadow.

"Let us cut your hair first, my dear." Regis said as she sat down with her back to him.

The vampire took out a straight razor from the black satchel and a leather strap. As he unfolded and sharpened the blade on the leather, running it up down the material, he spoke to her.

"Would you like it cut short, like when I first met you? Up by your ears?"

"Yes, please. I'm not at all the type of woman who wants to spend time fussing with hair. Is it true, like in the stories, that some women spend hours dressing and doing makeup?" Root asked as Regis began to trim her uneven locks with precision.

The vampire smiled. "It is indeed. I've known many women in my years that would wake hours before the sunrise every day in order to present themselves in as glorious a way as possible. They were exquisitely beautiful to be sure, but it is a lot of work. Granted, women like that usually live at court or have some modicum of wealth at their disposal. Poorer women usually do not have the luxury of time or money to devote to such things."

"Well, then I can't claim to be exquisitely beautiful that's for sure." Root said.

The vampire paused in his trimming and wiped the blade on a clean cloth.

"Why do you say that?" he asked. "And turn to the side for me."

Root turned and said with a shrug of her shoulders, "I'm just a poor wild woman from the woods. What could I know of such beauty?"

Regis delicately trimmed the hair around her ear, making sure it all blended well with the hair in the back, and thought about what she said.

"Face me, please." He said quietly. "Root?"

"Yes?" she asked, turning to him and looking up.

He put his fingers under her chin and looked into her pine green eyes with adoration and love, and did not let her turn away from him out of shyness, but gently held her chin, making her look at him.

"Those women are beautiful in their way, as you are beautiful in yours. There is no standard of beauty, no rights or wrongs. In four hundred years I've learned that truly, beauty is in the eye of the beholder." He said and kissed her, then tilted her face down, taking a shell comb to her bangs.

The forest maiden blushed and smiled at the compliment. "Thank you, my love."

"Other side." He said. "Take me for example. Do you think I am handsome? Attractive?"

She turned, causing him to lift the razor away from her. "Oh…sorry. Of course I do. You know my thoughts after all, you know I do."

Regis nodded. "Indeed. But you also know that I am considered a terrifying monster; one of the most abhorrent of all monsters known in this world. My teeth alone are enough to make the bravest of men falter, and has been the cause of many a woman's swoon. Not…in that way, my dear. Out of fear. Yet you find me attractive and love me. Why is that?"

"Well, because you're more than that!" she said as he continued to trim her hair with deft strokes of the razor. "They don't know you as I've come to know you. They don't share the bond we do. Beauty is more than how someone looks after all."

Regis smiled, wiped the razor on a clean cloth and folded it. He then took a damp cloth and brushed the stray hairs from her neck and face.

"Well said, my dear. So don't you worry, my sweet wild woman of the woods, about how those other women look. You let them be them, and you be you." He said. "Now, I cannot give you a proper bath. The palace at least was wonderful for that reason, yes? But if you'd be so good as to undress, I would love to wash your body and get you ready for bed."

Regis removed the cloth she was sitting on that was filled with hair and laid out a fresh sheet while she undressed. He admired her rounded, soft features in the light of the candles, her ample breasts, firm thighs, and curvy hips. And he loved how she was unashamed of nakedness, knowing that such free-ness about her body came from living in the woods, in Nature. Root may not think she was a model of beauty, but nor was she ashamed of herself. She lay on her tummy, and he covered her back and bottom with a warm blanket. Then starting with her feet, he soaked two cloths in hot water and wrapped each of them in warmth, softening the skin.

"Mmmmm…." She purred into the pillow.

"Just relax, my Root." He said softly, gently massaging her ankle and working his way slowly upward. "Your muscles are so tight. You worked very hard helping remove the snow. And I know the elves are grateful for the help with the children."

Once he'd massaged both of her legs, he unwrapped her feet and kneaded his strong fingers into the bottoms. No single toe went uncared for, with his dexterous fingers rubbing and gently tugging each one.

"That is…unbelievably wonderful…sweet spirits of field and stream…." She sighed.

The vampire tended to both her aching feet and then massaged a mint scented cream into each of them. He then covered her bottom and legs with the blanket, exposing her back, and laid warmed cloths over her skin, with a hot one laid over the back of her neck. Rubbing her down softly, he nodded as Dandelion provided him with a fresh kettle of piping hot water, letting in a breeze of cold winter air.

Root squealed as the frosty breath of air touched her bare skin, but then groaned happily when she felt him work his hands into her lower back.

Up her back, rubbing, massaging and kneading, Regis refreshed the cloths with hot water and then wrapped each of her hands like he'd done her feet. Taking her hand into his lap, he massaged from her shoulder, down to the elbow, down the forearms, wrists and into her palms, using his thumbs to stroke down each of her fingers, slipping the cloths from each as he did. Root was speechless and lay still, although he knew she wasn't sleeping; she was just floating in pure relaxation and happiness.

"Turn over, love." He said quietly.

The woman did so and just admired him with eyes filled with peace while he laid warm cloths over her breasts and belly, cleaning her while making her feel absolutely pampered and cared for. Regis too massaged her chest, knowing the muscles that held up a woman's breasts were often sore, especially for more well endowed women, which Root was. When finished, he set aside the cloths, slipped off his cloak, pinched out most of the candles, and lay down next to her, covering them with the heavy, warm blanket. Root turned on her side and nestled right up into his chest, her hands resting on him while he softly stroked the now short hair around her ear.

"There you go, me minne." He said softly. "Just rest."

"Thank you, my Regis." She murmured with a sigh. "That was wonderful."

They lay together in the soft darkness for a while, just enjoying each others' presence, until Regis heard her soft snore, noticing her fingers had stopped fidgeting.

"Mmm. I love…how you smell…" she whispered, barely awake.

The vampire smiled, remembering when he'd first met a certain dwarf who'd told him he smelled like soap or an apothecary shop. It was a scent that both hid his true nature from those sensitive to it, but could also give him away if he tried to approach someone who was familiar with him invisibly. It pleased him that once again the woman he loved was not off-put by what he was or did, but accepted all of him. Root drifted off to sleep and Regis stayed with her for an hour so, resting in the darkness with the woman he loved before joining the other companions by the fire.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42 (bit of a long one this time)

The following morning came, as winter so often does, with grey skies tinged with gold as heavy clouds masked the sunlight, teasing the world below with hidden warmth. And it was indeed cold that day, bitterly cold. And Geralt was grateful that there was little to no wind. The elves, most of them, were all tucked into their warm tents, with the only ones walking about being those charged with keeping the fires fed. The Witcher too maintained their fire. And glancing at the wood pile, he knew that they'd need more fuel soon; which meant another ride to the edge of the forest and back. Even the horses were uncomfortable with the extreme cold, standing as close to the warmth as space allowed, shivering. Root came and joined him, bundled up with a fur scarf and muffler.

"My goodness, even with mittens I'm still freezing." She said, grateful for the heat. "But I needed a stretch. Dandelion is still sleeping?"

The White Wolf nodded. "He's got to be cold in that small tent. I'm guessing he'll be up soon. I have some water going for tea. Sleep well?"

"I did. Regis gave me such a wonderful bath, well a nice rub down with hot towels. I loved that. Morning, Valonna."

The elven woman approached with a look of worry on her face.

"Apologies for interrupting but have either of you seen Speaker Errol?" she asked.

The Witcher shook his head as did Root.

"He left early this morning on patrol and he's not returned. No one should be out in this cold for too long. I fear for him." She continued.

Geralt resisted the urge to roll his eyes, as he was not at all fond of the elven man in question. But of course she was right.

"I'll have a look about. Which way did he head out?" Geralt replied, not really happy about leaving the warmth of the flames as he rose.

"West. I believe he intended to see if anything from the old garrison was salvageable for our use. But perhaps he traveled further. I'm unsure. Please, I know he's been unkind but none of us are trackers or fit enough to search for him." She said, wrapping her hands in a fur muffler.

"Of course we will, Valonna. Don't worry. You just get back to little Cera and the others. Geralt and I will find him." Root said kindly.

"Thank you, bleidd beanna. And you, Gwynbleidd." She said and hurried back to their camp.

"What's this we stuff?" the Witcher asked as he grabbed his blades and Root stood at the back of the carriage. "You're staying right here."

"It's too cold for Roach or any of the horses to manage, Geralt. My fur keeps me warm enough. I'm just going to change and grab an extra blanket, just in case."

A moment later, a transformed Root jumped from the back of the carriage with Regis following, carrying the blanket, handing it off to Geralt.

"Stay with the camp, Regis, and keep the fire hot." Geralt said, nodding as a really cold Dandelion came to the fire, puffing and rubbing his hands.

"Goodness I couldn't sleep another minute if I wanted to." He said, seeing Root in her wolf form. "What's going on?"

"Speaker Errol went on patrol this morning and hasn't come back. Probably just a wide sweep of the area. But still, we should check. Come on, Root." Geralt said.

The werewolf locked eyes with her love and nodded as the Witcher climbed up onto her back and she bounded off into the snow, heading west, toward the site of the old garrison. It was absolutely freezing away from the comfortable fire, but Root tolerated it well enough in her shifted form, and her body heat kept the Witcher reasonably warm as he sat behind her strong shoulders. As she walked into the area where the fort used to be, she scented around, searching for any trace of the elf.

"Any tracks have long since vanished that's for sure." Geralt said scanning the area. "I wonder what army used to be here."

The only structures that remained were the broken remains of the guard fence that would've once surrounded a camp full of soldiers. A few tent poles poking out of the snow like shards of brown bone, and some crates. The wolf woman raised her muzzle, catching a faint scent further west.

"We'll have to check these crates later. You never know." He said as Root set off.

Geralt's eyes scanned the horizon as the tree line got closer and he sensed that Root had increased her speed.

"You onto something?" he asked, giving her a pat.

She trudged through the deepening snow, using her strong body to muscle her way forward. Root's keen ears heard a cry and her ears stood up. With a bound she raced for the trees as fast as she could with Geralt holding onto the thick hump of fur between her shoulders. The forest rose before them, the mighty woods that surrounded Bald Mountain, although that great peak was miles away. Root growled. Her fur standing on end as the witcher slid from her back.

"Well, well what have we here?" spoke a man's voice as he appeared from behind a tree, eyeing the enormous brown wolf with caution.

"We want no trouble. We're searching for a friend. Perhaps you've seen him." Geralt said.

The man was clad in heavy dark brown furs and a bear skin hood, while at his sides were twin daggers; the pommels each bearing the mark of the Eternal Fire.

"Geralt!" called out a voice from behind the figure. "These are the one's…"

And then there was silence from Errol, with the hooded man turning his eyes to the Witcher.

"Geralt is it? No, it can't be our good fortune to cleanse the world of elven filth and the famed White Wolf in one day can it?" he said, his eyes burning with the look of zealotry.

Root snarled and stalked forward, unleashing her claws. The man watched her but stood his ground.

"Fanatics." Geralt spat. "Have your faith and be gone. We came for our friend and nothing else. We've no quarrel with you."

The man's eyes gleamed as men flanked him, each of them carrying weapons marked with the same religious symbolism.

"Part of our faith means killing the unworthy. Elves are not meant to live alongside the master race, nor are you. Witchers were a mistake; a foul abomination made by lesser, unenlightened generations. We undo that mistake with every death. So you see, you do have a quarrel with us whether you want to or not." He said, drawing his blades, flipping them expertly.

Geralt could tell by the way the man handled the daggers that he was no novice. These were professional killers with religion as their motive. Of course the Witcher had met members of the Eternal Fire before; most of the time bearing their comments about mutants and freaks with a roll of his eyes. But never before had the great White Wolf been threatened by any of them with physical violence.

"And you, filthy beast that serves the witcher, you too shall…ack…"

The man seemed to choke on his words and his hands dropped the deadly weapons. The Witcher looked at him strangely and then saw Root, changed into her human form, walk up to the leader of the group, her body radiating a golden light. The other men faltered, giving each other confused looks as the woman reached forward and grasped the man's throat.

"I am no one's servant. And you will not touch him." She said, her voice soft but full of anger. "It's because of people like you that I was once cursed. People like you that forced my father to flee into the woods with his newborn daughter. People like you who would hurt me and the men I love."

Geralt swore he saw the air around him shimmer like on a hot summer day, and it was centered on the leader and his men, who backed away, their conviction challenged as what looked like a small, roundly, middle-aged woman held their captain with one hand and he gasped for air, unable to move.

"You would've killed those elven children. Killed them for your god? Well, I can kill in the name of gods too if you like. Does that make me right?" she snarled.

Root threw him backwards into the snow. His men stood there, unsure what to do as he gasped for air, scrambling away as she stepped forward.

"If I ever see you again you're going to pray to your god that he take you out of this world before I reach you. Go. I spare you this one time." Root said, her green eyes flashing.

They grabbed their captain and the band fled into the woods as fast as they could. The Witcher turned to the forest maiden as the golden glow around her faded and she looked up at him.

"Root?" he said, touching her face.

"Ugh, his energy tasted terrible." She said, making a face. "But it worked right?"

Geralt nodded and smiled. "It did. Although I'm not sure exactly what just happened, are you?"

But a groan brought their attention back to the moment and Root shifted back into wolf form, leaping over a fallen log to find a wounded and bloodied Errol bound to a tree trunk. She slashed the ropes with her razor claws and he fell heavily into the snow. Root curled around him as the witcher came with the heavy blanket.

"Where are you hurt?" Geralt asked, checking him for injuries.

"They beat me pretty hard but nothing is…broken or…punctured….I don't think. I'm cold…my hands…" he said, his body shivering uncontrollably.

"Turn your face and body into Root, Speaker. Her body heat will warm you faster." Geralt said, drawing his own hood up over his head. "Although it's almost noon, we have to get moving as soon as we can to get back before dark."

The elf, not having the wits to argue about cuddling up to a werewolf, did as bid and Root practically lay on top of him. Errol's fingers were stiff and starting to turn black from severe frostbite.

"He won't last long. We have no choice but to make a run for it." Geralt said, looking up at the sun.

"Come on, Errol. Lay on her back and stay covered. Hang on as best as you can." Geralt continued, helping him climb up.

The elf's head rested on the fur between her shoulders and Geralt covered him with the heavy blanket. The trio then made their way back through the trail of snow, the elf gripping her fur with his frozen fingers as best as he could. But it was a trudge for Geralt, even as he followed in the swath made by the wolf woman, and the snow rose near the knee with each step. The Witcher too was starting to feel the effects of the bitter cold, noticing that he couldn't feel his toes or the tips of his ears. The werewolf stopped and looked at the White Wolf, tipping her head back.

"You can't carry both of us." The Witcher said with a shake of his head.

But her green eyes locked onto his golden ones and she rumbled. Understanding that it was that or they'd freeze, he climbed up onto her back, holding the now unconscious Errol against him and gripped her fur as Root plowed through the snow back toward their camp. When they reached the old garrison she let loose a howl. Root was breathing hard, her breath puffing in the frosty winter air, her body sore, and the pads of her paws numb. But she had to keep moving forward, as she and Geralt had been out in the bitter cold for several hours, and Errol even more so.

Regis, Dandelion and Valonna heard it and all leapt up, searching the road that led west.

"There!" Regis said as they came into view.

The werewolf trotted up to the camp, her two riders dropping to the ground. Geralt's hands were frozen into position, having held onto Errol to keep him from falling, with the other holding onto Root. The Speaker was unconscious and Valonna came over with others, wrapping the man in blankets.

"Get him near fire and skin on skin contact if you can." Regis said. "Oh, my goodness, Geralt, you need to get warm. Dandelion, get more blankets and put them right next to the fire. As many as we have."

The wolf woman came to the fire too, gingerly stepping on her sore, frozen pads and laid close to the heat, stretching her paws toward the flames. It was painful as they warmed, almost a burning sensation. But she held in her rumbles and whines for Geralt's sake. They laid out a blanket, rolled the Witcher onto it and then buried him under the others.

"He's wearing his armor; we'll never get that off. And he's unconscious. Damn it." Regis said. "Pull his boots off, Dandelion and put on, yes those, the heavy wool socks. Good man."

The bard had flashed into his tent and produced several pairs of heavy socks, layering them all on after tugging the leather boots from Geralt's feet, his toes having the beginnings of frostbite. The master herbalist climbed into the back of the carriage and came back carrying his black satchel.

"I'm glad I thought to harvest some of these winter roots. They make an excellent cream that helps in healing frostbite." He said, smearing the thick ointment onto Geralt's fingers and the tips of his ears. He then handed it to the poet to coat his feet.

"Yes, that's good. Just put the socks back on right over the cream, it creates a barrier of sorts so they won't get anymore bitten than they are." Regis said, wrapping the Witcher up tightly and scooting him as close to the fire as he could. "Root?"

The vampire approached the resting wolf.

"No, don't lick your paws, that'll make it worse. Oh, my darling, your pads are cracked and the crevices are packed with hard snow. Forgive me." He said softly and began to gently brush the ice from between her pads, which opened wounds that bled.

Root held in her pain, her green eyes resting on the White Wolf.

"You're warmer in this form?" he asked her and she nodded. "Very well. Oh, sweet Root your poor feet, I'm sorry, I know it hurts. There. We have all the snow out."

Regis took out a vial of white powder from his case and sprinkled it over each of her paws, which instantly clotted the blood, stopping the bleeding.

"A little baking soda does wonders in the herbalist's repertoire, does it not?" he said, stroking her muzzle.

Regis then smeared the frostbite salve onto her sore pads and Dandelion tugged wool socks onto her paws. Which looked absolutely ridiculous but no one cared in that moment.

"Keep the fire hot and high, Dandelion. Geralt? Come on, old friend, wake up." Regis said, trying to bring the Witcher around.

"Ugh this shit stinks." The White Wolf muttered, his body shuddering, and he pulled deeper into the blankets. "That was close. If the…White Frost is worse than that…I'll be surprised."

The vampire sighed with relief and put the percolator on. Dandelion draped a few blankets over Root who rumbled happily and nuzzled him as he sat beside her, poking the fire, bringing a fresh blaze of warmth.

"Root?" Geralt said, poking his head out from the covers. "Are you doing alright?"

The werewolf bobbed her head and waved one of her sock covered paws at him, yowling her response as she once again realized she couldn't talk to them in that form.

"She says not to worry about her." Regis replied, smiling. "Benefits come when one can read your thoughts, my dear. Coffee is almost ready. Can you sit up, Geralt?"

"Stop fussing over me, old man, you're like a mother hen." The hunter said, slowly sitting up and wrapping the blankets around himself. "But…thank you. That'd be great."

Regis rolled his eyes and poured Geralt a fresh cup and the Witcher eagerly wrapped his hands around it, noticing the greasy feel of the cream.

"Gross." He said, sipping.

"It's better than losing your ability to wield those twin blades of yours, yes? So "mother hen" says you're going to apply that cream every three hours until the frostbite is healed. Don't you dare look at me like that, Geralt of Rivia. I'm four hundred years old and then some and I know better. So shush." Regis said, giving the hunter stern look.

The look on Geralt's face was so priceless that Dandelion and Regis both erupted into laughter with the great hunter laughing right along with them. Even the werewolf laughed, a sort of hyena like sound that made them all roar even harder. Dandelion rose and put another log on the fire, glancing over at the elven camp.

"Should we check on Errol?" he said, sitting beside Root and she put her head into his lap.

"Yes, I'll go." Regis said and took his black case with him.

"So, Geralt, what happened out there?" the poet asked, pouring a cup of tea and holding it near Root's maw. "Too hot?"

She lapped it and it was perfect so he held the cup there for her to drink.

Geralt sipped his coffee and glanced at Root, the firelight reflecting in her green eyes. He wasn't certain she had any memory of what had happened during the confrontation.

"Give him some time, my good man." Regis said, returning quickly. "Errol is awake and much warmer, but his fingers and toes are badly bitten. Valonna is with him and I left her some of the cream. We shall have to wait and see if amputation is required."

"We encountered some fanatics of the Eternal Fire. Apparently they were part of the same group that led the pogrom against our elven neighbors. Damn religious nutters." Geralt muttered, holding his cup out as the bard poured. "Thanks, Dandelion. And thank you too, Regis. Sorry for snapping earlier."

"Ah yes, the extremists of the Eternal Fire; I remember it well as they "lovingly" doused me with holy water and chucked me into the ground. Yes, very warm and comforting that. Well, it's good that you found the Speaker when you did. A few hours later and I think he'd have died. Valonna was wise to have you check on him. And don't worry about it, we all know how to handle the cranky Wolf." The vampire said, pouring a cup of tea. "It's going to be a very, very cold night tonight."

"It's Root that we have to thank too. She picked up his scent because any trace of tracks or a path was long covered over by the time we got there. That's really going to get Errol thinking when he realizes he's alive because of a werewolf. You don't want to know what he said about her, and us, the other night." Geralt said. "My feet are burning."

"That's normal and a good sign, although it is painful." Regis replied. "Errol is a bitter man who's suffered much. I'm not excusing his behavior or bigoted views, but at least I can understand. It's much worse when you have villages full of people who've never even seen a true monster or felt a savage claw, yet they feel such hate and spew vitriol against others. At least Errol has looked into the eyes of a werewolf and human fanatics alike and has reason to be angry."

At this revelation, Root looked up, her ears raised. She had no idea the Speaker had encountered one of her kin.

"Yes, Root. Before the pogrom set upon his village with torch fire, they had also been attacked by a feral werewolf. Valonna and I have had some nice fireside chats during our watches. She's a good woman, takes good care of him and Cera. How or if they slew the werewolf I know not. Perhaps the zealots crossed paths with it before they found the elves. How are your paws, my dear?" Regis asked. "Still painful. Geralt, how are you?"

The Witcher rolled his eyes, not liking to be focused on. "I'm fine. I rode on her back for much of the way. My fingers are little stiff and my feet ache. Nothing I can't get over."

"Very well. Root, do you want to change and get some rest in the carriage?" Regis asked, and she nodded her head.

The wolf melted away, wrapped the blankets around herself and got to her human feet very slowly, holding in the cry of pain as she put weight on her injured soles. But she couldn't hide her limp as she made her way to the carriage.

"Thank you, Dandelion." She said in a quiet, pained voice. "Good night, White Wolf."

She kissed the Witcher's head through the blanket and Regis helped her climb into the back. She quickly grabbed a set of warm pajamas and threw them on while Regis lit the candles.

"My dear, I know you don't want to show your pain, but I already know. Your feet are badly hurt. You're not weak. Look." He said, coming to sit by her, slipping off the wool socks on her hands.

There were small but definite cracks on her palms that were red and inflamed.

"You carried them both to safety. Without you, I'm unsure our Geralt would've made it back before the frost claimed them both. Even wolves get cold feet at times. And today was bitterly cold. You need to be off your feet for a few days to allow them to heal. I mean it; you stay in bed unless you have to relieve yourself. Dandelion and I will manage the camp while you and Geralt recover. He'll be in shortly I'm sure, but you know how stubborn he can be."

"I want you to stay with me too." She said fluffing the pillow. "And yes, I will stay in bed. I'm glad I was able to help the Speaker. Maybe it'll help him see not all monsters are bad. Oooh…ow."

"I have to keep watch tonight, and check on Errol too. I'll be with you in the morning, after Dandelion wakes for his watch. Now, you lay down, my love." He said, covering her.

"Regis?"

"Yes, Root?"

"I want to fall asleep on my own. I can't bear the thought of Geralt and Errol suffering while I am relieved of pain." She said, laying a hand on Regis' face.

The vampire gazed at her, admiring the woman he loved and kissed the palm of her hand.

"As you wish. Although it pulls my heartstrings to know you're ailing, I will always consider your decisions. The pain is great, any more so and I would have to object to your thinking. I'll be near if you change your mind." He replied.

"Thank you." She said and snuggled into the blankets.

Regis returned to the fire and poured himself a cup of hot tea, sitting with some of the best friends he'd ever known in over four hundred years. It was too cold for Dandelion to have his hands uncovered so no music graced their camp that evening.

"She's asleep I assume?" Geralt asked.

Regis shook his head. "No, not yet. She wanted to sleep on her own."

The Witcher raised an eyebrow. "That's odd for her isn't it?"

"She didn't like the idea of you and Errol being in pain while she was relieved from it. Although if her discomfort gets any worse I will have her sleep. But she seems to be tolerating it well at the moment. Would you like to sleep, Geralt?" Regis asked with a sly grin.

"Don't even think about it." The White Wolf said. "Or I may have to go looking for that Nilfgaardian steel again."

"You know I'm joking, old friend. I would never violate our friendship in that way." Emiel replied. "How are your feet? Still feeling the burn?"

"Not as much, no. They ache and itch like mad though. My fingers seem fine." He answered.

Regis nodded. "That's still a good sign. It means the blood is flowing to your extremities if you can feel that. I'm supposing you'll have no permanent damage. Although Errol's fingers look terrible. I won't be surprised if we have to remove a few of them and possibly a toe or two."

Dandelion chucked another log and some kindling into the fire, sending a shower of sparks into the early evening sky.

"Can you do that out here, Regis? I mean, wouldn't that be really unsanitary?" the bard asked. "Goodness but its freezing. No, don't say it, Geralt. I'm not whining about not being at the palace."

"It's not the space a surgeon would like to work in of course. But if they aren't removed they'll get infected and that could be much worse. However, the cream I have is pretty potent so there's a chance they'll recover." He said, taking out his pipe.

"Well, I don't like the idea of Root in there suffering needlessly." Geralt said with a grumble.

Emiel Regis lit the smoking blend and exhaled, filling the air with the scent of vanilla and spice.

"Nor do I. But it's what she wanted. In a few hours she'll need to re-apply the cream. I'll see how she feels then. I must say, you're quite fortunate to have had her with you, Geralt. If you had to walk all that way back with Errol in tow, or perhaps having to carry him, we'd most likely be burying you both tonight." Regis said in a serious voice and the Witcher nodded.

"I know. Errol was foolish to go out that far alone though. Valonna said he was searching the old fort for salvage, but he was way past that point. The Eternal Fire people must've waylaid him, seeing a solitary figure and an easy target." The Witcher replied.

"Are we safe here?" Dandelion asked. "What happened to the cultists?"

Geralt smirked, remembering how the forest maiden dealt with them.

"I'm not exactly sure what happened but Root seemed to choke a man by pulling energy from the leader. The men with him were so baffled by the naked woman who strolled up and grasped him by the throat, and threatened them, that they stood there gaping. It was priceless. And honestly I'm unsure what she remembers, if anything. I know she recalls draining the man because she said his energy "tasted" terrible." Geralt said as vampire and bard listened intently.

"Fascinating." Regis said, closing his eyes momentarily. "She does remember what happened. It would seem our Root bluffed and they fell for it. She used her new found power to begin leeching energy from the man's throat, and then put on a mask of superiority and power; judging by their reactions that she could fool them into thinking she was far more powerful than they. And it worked flawlessly. Ahh there you go, my dear. She's just fallen asleep."

"As for whether we're safe or not," he continued. "I would wager that those cultists believe they've encounter some sort of evil spirit. So they may be back, they may not, depending on their fervor. And, I think it is too cold for anyone to sleep alone tonight. So Dandelion I think you should be in with us. I know it's crowded, but being that you and I will have to take watch tonight, it shouldn't be too bad."

"I can take a watch." Geralt complained.

"I simply cannot hear of it." Regis said, taking on that superior tone that sometimes grated the Witchers' nerves. "You should be resting even now but obviously I will not force you to. If you wish to stay awake all night in the carriage, that's your business. But I insist on no watch for you; not until I'm satisfied that your feet are fully healed."

The Witcher rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yeah, yeah fine."

The three friends sat around their fire for another few hours, passing the time playing Barrel, drinking hot coffee and tea to keep warm. Regis would at times go and check on Errol and to everyone's relief the man was responding well to the powerful herbal ointment, his fingers and toes already showing signs of healthy recovery. But as the deep night began to settle over the land, the temperature plummeted and Dandelion insisted on taking first watch.

Geralt and Regis climbed into the back of the carriage and Root turned over, looking sleepily up at her two partners. The White Wolf unfastened his armor while the vampire sat next to her.

"Let me see your hands, my dear." He said softly, examining them. "Looking much better. I'm sorry we woke you. Your feet still hurt quite a bit though don't they?"

Geralt crawled under the covers, laying on his side and curling his strong body up to her back. Root didn't want to show them it was hurting, she wanted to be strong. And the kind healer touched her face, knowing her thoughts.

"As you wish. I won't." He said and slipped under the covers next to her so that she was warmly snuggled between them.

Geralt kissed her ear and began to whisper the words of Dandelion's lullaby, translating it entirely it into hen ilinge. Within minutes her fingers rested on Regis' chest and the White Wolf looked over at his friend.

"You won't, but I will." He said with a smirk.

"Well, that's different," He replied quietly so as not to wake her. "She just doesn't want to be forced. Get some rest, Geralt."

A few hours later, the vampire was reading a book and watching over the sleeping pair. But he was very concerned for Root. He knew her feet were in absolute agony as she'd wake at times, wince and then fall back to sleep. And too it occurred to him that he'd not examined them when she'd changed back into her human form. So Regis slid down next to her and went to slide the sock from one foot and was startled when she cried out, the fabric having stuck to the skin. The Witcher too jumped, instantly awake.

"What the…" he said, sitting up. "Root?"

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry. Hold still." Regis said, gently testing, pulling the sock. "I can't get it off. Geralt hand me the small scissors from my bag. Yes, there, those. Thank you. I should've checked this when you changed. I'm so, so sorry, my love."

The woman tried to remain still but her leg trembled and she did her best to hold in her cries, but to little end. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she cried through grit teeth. Geralt was annoyed by her stubborn refusal to accept any pain relief and he let Regis know by giving him a hard glare.

"Hold her." Regis said, delicately snipping the fabric. "I don't want to…oh my stars…"

The healer finally managed to get one of the socks off, and as it came away from her foot he could see fresh blood and puss beginning to ooze from the horizontal groove that ran just above the center of her foot, right where the lower wolf pad and the upper toe pads would be split.

"I couldn't see how badly this was torn with the fur. Root, please?" he said, looking at her with his dark eyes.

"No…no…it's not fair." She said tearfully, shaking her head. "Just…do what you have to."

"Your skin is deeply split. I have to stitch you and I haven't even looked at the other one." He replied.

"Damn it, Regis, do it already." Geralt said through gritted teeth.

"No! Don't you…"

"Forgive me, my dear." And he commanded her mind, dropping her immediately into a coma like state.

Dandelion poked his head in, concern on his hooded features, having heard her cries.

"What's wrong?" he asked, and then saw Root's lacerated foot. "Oh…oh my…What do you need? What can I do?"

"Bring me some of the hot water from the kettle." He said and the bard nodded.

"I have to wash this clean first. Can you cut the other sock off? Thank you, Geralt." Regis said. "Good. Thank you, Dandelion."

Regis had an easier time cleaning her wound now that his patient was out and he threaded a fine bone needle with a clean piece of cotton thread while the Witcher snipped the fabric away from the other wound, careful not to cut into her skin.

"Stitches on the feet are difficult because of the way the foot moves. She's not going to be able to shift or walk for days. This is my fault. I didn't check." Regis said softly, chastising himself, masterfully and quickly threading the stitches.

"The cold was the more pressing issue, Regis. And damn it all she should've told us." Geralt said quietly, annoyed.

"She should've, yes. But I don't know that it would make this any easier even if she had. My guess is that she didn't feel it or even notice how bad it was herself until she'd fully warmed up. Thus her pain increasing as the night went on. Just…a few more…."

The expert surgeon snipped the thread and tied it off. He then swabbed the foot with alcohol and sighed, moving onto the next one. When both feet had been stitched and cleaned, Regis wrapped them in sterile gauze that was very lightweight, almost like spider silk, that would allow air to aid in the healing process while keeping them free from particles.

"There. Geralt, you're exhausted. Get some sleep. I'm sorry to have frustrated you. You were right; I should've had her sleep earlier. But you know me; I don't wish to violate others like that and she had specifically refused." Regis said. "She's going to be furious with me."

Geralt shook his head. "Actually now that I think about it, had you done that, you would've had no reason to check her foot. It was only because of the pain becoming unbearable that you did. I don't even want to know what those wounds would've looked like come morning. As for her being furious, Root hasn't any notion of how bad these gashes are. I understand her feeling like a burden. You know me, Regis, I get it. I'm a stubborn bastard at times, I know. So I recognize it when someone else is pulling the same shit. You're the expert in this and I will make her see reason if she gives you any lip about it."

Regis nodded. After putting away his cleaned instruments in the black satchel, he then wiped his hands on an alcohol soaked cloth to clean them.

"It will be interesting to see which of us she'll be angry at longer; you for telling me to put her out, or me for doing so." He said, covering Root in the warm blankets and moving her so she rested more comfortably on the pillow. "Ah my sweet, I'm sorry."

"I'll go relieve Dandelion of watch." Regis continued. "She'll not wake, just keep her covered."

The White Wolf nodded, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, as he lay beside her.

"Stubbon wolf." He said with a smile. "I suppose that's why I love you."

A moment later and the bard eagerly climbed into the back of the carriage and quickly closed the flap. Geralt glanced up at him, wrapping his arm protectively around Root.

"Mind the feet." The White Wolf mumbled. "Don't bump them."

Dandelion scooted under the covers near the couple, but naturally did not rest too closely or familiarly near her. He covered himself and shivered, blowing into his hands but soon sleep too claimed him as he'd been on watch longer than usual due to Regis needing to stitch up injured feet.

After checking on Errol, Regis found himself sitting at their fire, keeping it well fed and hot as the deep night rolled into early morning and hues of soft pink started to make the winter sky blush.

His companions slept well past sunrise, both exhausted and feeling quite terrible when they woke. The vampire climbed into the back, bringing the percolator of coffee with him and two cups. Root was still completely oblivious to the world, resting quietly.

"Here you are, gentleman." He said, as they sat up. "That was a rough night indeed."

"Alright, now I'm going to say it. I really wish we were back at the palace." The bard said, rubbing his neck. "Thanks, Regis."

The vampire looked to Geralt. "Would it be better if we went back? Could we even make it? And would his majesty be understanding of our need?"

The Witcher shook his head. "We'd never make it down the switchback, not with the snow. And definitely not with the elves in tow. I can't just leave them."

"No, no of course not." Regis replied, handing him a cup. "And tolerant as Vizima is, I very much doubt his majesty would be open to a small band of elven refugees suddenly taking up residence. Foltest is a good man, to be sure, but he's too politically involved. And one must play the game."

"Not to mention that I've been more or less banished for at least a year. I suppose I could call in a favor or two and we could risk hiding out in one of my contacts' houses." The poet said sipping the coffee, grateful for the hot, brown-black liquid.

"No, that won't do. And again, we have the elves to consider, not just us. Remember, they hired me, paid up front too. No, we have to make for Oxenfurt as soon as the road clears of snow and the horses have an easier time of it. But right now, we're stuck here; which honestly hasn't been bad all things considered. We still have plenty of fuel, food and a nearby water source. We have a healer, an entertainer and a woman we all love and care for who, just has a few issues." Geralt said, sipping.

"Well said, Geralt." Regis replied, brightening. "Although a woman who is going to be furious. Ready, gentleman?"

The vampire gently touched Root's forehead, lifting his spell from her mind. The woman's eyelids fluttered and slowly opened, focusing on the lantern above, and then turning to see Geralt, Dandelion and Regis sitting near her. Her green eyes locked onto Geralt's golden gaze and he grinned.

"I knew it'd be me." He said. "Morning, Root."

"You. I told Regis I didn't…"

"Are you a master healer?" Geralt replied, cutting her off.

"What? No, but…"

"Do you know how bad your wounds are?" he continued.

"Well, no but…"

"Did you spend hours awake last night snipping off wool socks that had gotten stuck to your feet, covered in blood and puss?"

"NO! But, Geralt, I…"

"But nothing, Root. You're being silly so stop it right now." Geralt said and silenced any further complaints with his stern gaze.

Frustrated, Root pulled the blankets up over her head while Geralt and Dandelion both climbed out of the carriage, leaving her alone with Regis.

"I have to check your feet, my dear." He said quietly.

"Don't you "my dear" me." She muttered under the covers.

The vampire gently eased her feet toward him, examined the wrappings, and was satisfied that they were clean and holding well. He covered them up and sighed, resting his hand on her.

"I am sorry, Root. But I did tell you that if the pain got too bad I'd have to question your desires. A healer has to consider that a person may not always know what they need versus what they want. I know you wanted to remain awake, but it wasn't the best for you, me minne. Your wounds are very, very bad." He said as Root peered at him from under the covers with teary eyes.

"You're trying so hard not to show any pain or discomfort. But why?" he asked, lying on his side next to her.

"Because…because I'm tired of being the one that things happen to." She said, her green eyes flowing.

Regis softly touched her nose. "Would you rather it happened to someone else?"

"No!" she said, sniffling. "But if I could just be a little stronger, I wouldn't…I wouldn't be such a bother."

"Root, listen to me. The bottoms of your feet are split open with quarter inch deep lacerations running horizontally across each. You should not have been able to walk, let alone run back to camp bearing two grown men on your back. Yet you did. How you managed it and got through the early evening without so much as a wince I don't know. You're not weak; you have serious injuries that may well have cost you your feet had I not been here. Sure, yes, Geralt and others have suffered much greater injuries. But that's them. You need to stop comparing yourself and your ordeals to others." He said quietly, stroking her face.

Root was silent, considering his words, and a thought flashed through her mind, one she tried to hide from him. But of course he knew.

"You're trying to validate your life aren't you." He said, and it wasn't a question. "You figure if you suffer enough, do enough, that it'll make up for what you believe was a mistake." Regis said, looking at her with deep love and sorrow. "You don't think you're supposed to be alive. That some how you existing must mean others are lacking. So if you suffer, you pay for another day."

The forest maiden broke and so Regis just held her in his arms as she cried.

"No, no, Root that's not the case. That's not how it works, my love. Shhhh…no, I'll never leave you. No, Geralt's not really angry. You don't owe anyone, Root, that's not how life works. Life is a gift, freely given, as I gave you eternal life. You don't pay back gifts, you accept them." He said but the woman was inconsolable so he just held her. "No, don't kick your feet. Be careful. Shhhh…hush now."

Regis let her cry hard for an hour until finally she lay exhausted against him, her cheeks still stained with tears, but her face placid as he stroked her hair. The vampire kissed her and covered her up, lightly touching her forehead, sending her into a deeper rest.

"My dear lady." He said softly. "How I love you. Rest now. Heal."


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

As the day wore on, Regis and Dandelion busied themselves with keeping the paths between the camps free of snow, collected firewood and kindling from the nearby grove, and assisted the elves with their fishing lines. While Geralt stayed around the camp, Regis' orders, and maintained the fire which had a heavy pot of winter vegetable and venison stew over it for their supper. Root slept, the vampire not allowing her to wake because he knew her level of pain was intense despite the wounds being sealed. He did check on her at times to hydrate her and make sure she'd not kicked her soles against anything and torn the stitches. The other two men had been very good as to not inquire about her long cry after they'd left the carriage, because Regis wasn't sure if it was his place to explain it to them. The vampire knew that Root blamed herself for her mothers' death, even though her father had assured her that wasn't the case. And Regis could understand how the recent knowledge regarding her own heritage could add to the feeling of one not quite belonging in that world, seeing that as yet more proof that she was responsible for bad things happening to other people. But what broke his heart the most was Root's belief that if she suffered enough pain she could make up for, what she perceived as, a life that wasn't supposed to be. So the werewolf hid her pain, hid her wounds, physical or otherwise, so that no one else would be hurt or bothered by them. And it troubled him that the woman he loved considered the very painful, deep wounds that she'd suffered to be mere trifles, as if nothing could happen to her that wouldn't be in some way deserved.

And yet Regis knew that there was no way he'd ever be able to talk her out of these deeply ingrained beliefs. No, he knew the only way to help her heal was to just love her more.

When evening fell, the whole camp again prepared for another freezing cold night as the bitter cold snap continued. Geralt ladled a good portion of stew into a bowl, grabbed a piece of bread and headed to the sleeping area in the carriage.

"She should eat something, Regis. Would you wake her please?" the White Wolf said and the vampire nodded.

When the hunter climbed into the back, Root was starting to stir and straight away sat up slowly, gingerly touching her wrapped feet. She saw Geralt come in and he saw her tear streaked face, wondering about what had happened earlier. He set the food on the nightstand, turned and latched the flap closed, and then sat next to her.

"Come on you stubborn woman. Time to eat." He said, although he winked at her and gave her a soft smile.

Geralt handed her the bowl and Root realized that she was absolutely ravenous. The thick gravy tasted so very good that she tilted the bowl to drink it, and then scooped the big pieces of meat from the bottom along with the soft vegetables. Using the bread, she mopped up the last bit of gravy and ate every last little crumb while the Witcher sat quietly and patiently.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, taking the empty dish and setting it on the stand.

"They hurt." She replied with a shrug. "How are you my hunter?"

Geralt smiled at her, reached forward and caressed her face with his gloved hand that smelled of oiled wood and leather.

"I'm fine. Because of you, Errol and I are both almost fully recovered. Regis' frostbite cream has been nigh on miraculous for the elf as well. Do I dare say that I'm alive because of two monsters?" the Witcher said as she leaned into his palm. "I knew you couldn't stay mad at me."

"I'm sorry, Geralt." She said, her breath catching as pain shot through her soles.

"As Regis once said, "What's a cross word between friends from time to time?" Or something like that. And you are much more than a friend to me, Root. I'm not great with words but I'm going to try here. I'm grumpy and stubborn. I feel like I'm a pain in the backside to everyone around me most days. And yet…I know that isn't really true. They stay because they want to. Because they care. Because they're true friends. I don't know what goes on in your mind like Regis does, but I'm a pretty clever wolf. Like me, you don't think you deserve relief from anything, that everything happens to you because you fucking deserve it. And any respite from it is just a lucky break with something else shitty just waiting to happen. You're happy with all of us, Regis, me and Dandelion. And yet I know that look in your eyes at the fire some nights. You're waiting for all of us to leave you, abandon you, and then you can say, "I knew it."

Root sat in silence, the tears streaming down her face. She wiped her cheeks and sniffed, lightly biting her lip. Her green eyes were pools of emerald water as her very thoughts were explained by another who felt the same at times.

"Well, that's not going to happen, Root." He continued quietly. "I don't much abide by things like fate or destiny. But I know what love is. When I…When I met my Yennefer it was…as if I knew, deep inside that she and I were to be together. I saw that same look in your eyes the first night you spent with both Regis and I. You knew, and so did he. And while I know I don't hold a candle to the vampire, you love me too and I…and I love you, Root. You and me and Regis are all connected, with our good friends around us to see us through our trials and we here to help them. You can't earn it, you can't pay it back. You can only accept it. Graciously if you can but…most days I do it with a grunt and a nod. But…I'm trying."

The forest maiden sniffed and wiped her eyes. "Then…then I will try too."

"That's all we ask." He said softly.

The back opened and Regis climbed in.

"Apologies for interrupting." He said. "But our Root here needs some more pain relief. However, seeing as you'd prefer not to sleep, I have this for you to drink. I would've used this before, but you needed more immediate aid."

Regis sat next to them both and held a tin cup while pouring a brackish colored liquid into it from a dark glass bottle. He expected the woman to argue with him, but was pleased when she looked up and nodded her head, accepting his direction.

"This doesn't taste good at all, Root. But it will give you relief without drowsiness. Ah, well, I should clarify. It won't make you drowsy right away; it'll take a few hours. It does, however, have other interesting side effects so we shall see what the night brings." The ancient one said.

"What is it?" Root asked, sipping and straight away making a face and a gurgling noise. "Gssph…that is…awful."

Her whole body shuddered but the woman forced herself to drink.

"All of it." Regis instructed, pouring. "And another. You have to drink three of these. I promise that very shortly you won't even remember how awful this tastes. Almost there. And three."

Root finally swallowed the third cup of the bitter, nasty tasting decoction but otherwise she felt the same as before, her feet still hurting tremendously. Regis set the cup and bottle on the nightstand and then checked the bandages.

"You continue to astound me with your tolerance of pain. I know your thoughts, my dear. I know what you're enduring." Regis said. "These should be fine for a while longer. I'll need to change them tomorrow."

"That tasted like dirty swamp water. Yeeck. By field and forest, what is that?" she asked, still tasting it on her tongue.

"Some plants I believe you're familiar with, and one ingredient you probably aren't. Familiar with, that is." The vampire said. "Are you feeling anything?"

Root shook her head, feeling the same as she was before drinking the strong medicinal. Geralt too was interested in what it was, as he himself was a maker of various potions when he had the time.

"It's a decoction of redcoat caps, whose properties will distract the mind from pain, and mandrake root, which will eventually make you sleepy." He began, watching as Root started to look around the carriage as if following something with her eyes. "Mixed with secretions from an endrega queen."

"A what?" Root asked, her vision becoming soft and muted. "Look at my hands…"

"That's pretty rare, Regis. How did you even get that?" Geralt asked, watching the woman with a light smile on his face.

"I harvest when and where I can. But it was hard to get to be sure." He said mysteriously. "How are you feeling now, Root?"

She looked at Regis, then at Geralt and reached her hands toward them as if lightly grasping at things in the air. She'd then look at her hands, turn them this way and that, smile and repeat.

"Can you see that? Watch…" she said, moving her hand through the air and seeing trails of light following it.

"She's completely high." Geralt said with a chuckle. "Nice."

Root looked over at Geralt, turned her head to the side and then giggled, laughing quietly to herself as what looked like bits of starlight settled on the White Wolf like snowflakes.

"Snowy wolf…white, white wolf...my white wolf. Geralt snowy snow…"

"Oh. Wow." The Witcher said with a hearty laugh.

"She doesn't feel a thing." Regis said cheerfully, reaching his hand toward her, lacing his fingers in hers. "Excellent."

"You're so, so beautiful, me minne." She said with an enamored sigh to the vampire, seeing him like a shining, radiant being surrounded by billions of tiny lights.

"What do you see?" he asked her, curious.

"Light! You're surrounded by blazing light lights…." she replied as all the stars around him and Geralt flew into what she saw as the sky above, with the lantern being the moon. "Ahhh…you glow like fireflies in a meadow…"

She leaned back so Regis gently pulled her forward, back into a sitting position so she didn't fall over.

"The moon is golden colored…that's not right…" she said, but then giggled about it.

"Ahh Geralt…oh my Geralt," Root said with a very noticeable longing in her voice, her hand reaching for him. "You have such a massive…please can I have it?"

"Oh dear…" the Witcher said.

"Ah yes, that's one of the side effects." Regis said with a sly grin. "Yes, Root, I'm sure he does but no, not right now."

And then she was off to the next distraction as red butterflies took wing around her, each of them having tiny white spots on their wings.

"OK" she said absently, not caring in the slightest or even remembering what the last thought she had had been. "Redcoat flutter flies. I'm a queen did you say, Regis?"

The vampire and Witcher exchanged glances, both utterly amused and delighted by Root's trip.

"Not quite, my dear. Never mind."

"OK"

Dandelion then popped his head in to check on them and Root turned to him, a huge, child-like smile lighting up her face.

"Fox!" she exclaimed and clapped her hands like a toddler at a petting zoo.

"Uhhh, guys, what's up?" he asked, climbing into the back and sitting across from the hallucinating woman.

"Root's high." Geralt said as she went to crawl toward the poet. "Nah, nah, nah stay put you."

"I want to see the fox." She said happily, reaching for the bard.

Dandelion looked to the vampire who just shook his head and smiled, careful to veil his teeth.

"Apparently she sees you as a fox." Regis said. "Yes, that's Geralt's hair, dear."

She nuzzled the great hunters' pure white hair, loving its scent, which seemed to her at that moment the most amazing thing she'd ever known. She then started to braid it.

"Not. A. Word." He said as both Regis and Dandelion quietly but barely held in their mirth.

"Aaaand why am I a fox?" Dandelion said, amused by her antics. "Who got her high? And why?"

"I did." Regis replied with a smile. "Pain relief. She's slept a lot, so this was a way for her to be awake and spend time with us without being in agony."

Root moaned and softly bit her lip. "Regis…sweet spirits of the forest I need you to take me…right now…"

"Oh, I know you do." He replied. "Not right now, my love."

The vampire glanced at the bard. "And she's really horny. Part of the medicinal I gave her. Look, Root, see the nice fox?"

The forest maiden looked over to Dandelion, seeing his handsome face as some combination of a red fox and a human.

"Werefox!" she said excitedly and clapped. "I'm a werewolf!"

"No, no, Root, stay human. Stay…human…" Regis said momentarily making eye contact with her.

"Stay…" she said, and petted the bard's hair.

"Oh. My. I am so putting this into a song." The bard said and the three men laughed.

"OK, since we're having fun. Regis, reach into that drawer behind you and grab the deck of cards and that coin. Thanks. Watch this, Root."

Dandelion held the deck of Barrel cards in his hand, and with a flourish he fanned them out into almost a full circle, much to Root's delight.

"Pick a card, mi'lady." He said.

"They're birds." She corrected him, pulling out a card.

"Who knew a poet could hold a flock of birds in just one hand?" he said with an entertainers smile, flipping the cards into a deck again.

He cut the deck in two and set them in front of her.

"Now, put your little birdie on top of whichever one you choose." He instructed.

The woman yawned and Regis smiled, but remained quiet. Root placed her card onto the deck of her choice, and the bard then set the other half on top.

"Geralt will you shuffle the deck, uh birds, again please?" he asked, and the Witcher took them and bridge sorted the artistic cards.

"Now, Root…do you remember your birdie?" he asked her.

"Yes, foxy, I…do….Mmmmm…" she replied, leaning heavily on Geralt's arm.

Dandelion set the deck down in front of her, placed the coin on top and held his hand over the cards.

"I command Root's birdie to fly to the top!" He said in a dramatic voice and the woman watched carefully.

The bard clicked his fingers and turned over the coin. And the top card, which had become stuck to it, was hers. The woman burst out laughing with child-like wonder and Regis had to gently keep her from kicking her feet.

As the night went on, Root was utterly oblivious to pain for several hours as the men all sat together, keeping the forest maiden company, leaving only to take turns keeping the fire fed. It was well after midnight when the bard left for his tent and Geralt pinched out the candles and Regis turned down the lantern. Both of them then lay beside Root as she rested on her back, gazing up at the ceiling quietly.

"And finally, the mandrake kicks in." Regis said quietly, covering her with the heavy blanket as she blinked slowly.

Root rolled on her side, facing Geralt so Regis spooned her back, nuzzling her neck and kissed her softly. The woman's hands wandered down the scarred body of the Witcher, searching for what she wanted, but Geralt stopped her, holding her hands in his. The woman looked at him in the darkness, barely seeing his golden eyes.

"She'll be asleep in…three…two…one…out." Regis said quietly. "Good ole mandrake. That worked quite well."

Root passed out and the medicinal plants brought healing sleep and powerful, beautiful, vivid dreams to the forest maiden as her two loves held her in their arms, one sleeping, the other resting and guarding them until a new day would dawn.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

The following morning came with a clear sky and the golden sun shining over the land, bringing with it warmer temperatures. The cold snap seemed to have passed in the early hours of dawn, and the open water of the river had sunlit steam rising from it. The elves were up and about, with Valonna standing at their fire with Errol, who was very much recovered, but still had not spoken to anyone in the Witchers' group since the incident. But that morning the Speaker and Valonna seemed to be having a disagreement of sorts, with the woman finally walking away from him, while he walked toward Geralt's camp.

Regis was up and making their breakfast when he heard the elf approach and Geralt slid down from the back of the carriage.

"Where is she?" the Speaker asked in a demanding, harsh tone.

The vampire put the kettle on the cooking grate and peered curiously at the man as the Witcher came to his side.

"And a good morning to you, Speaker Errol." Regis replied. "Being that Root is the only female of our party I'm going to assume you're inquiring after her. She's asleep still. Can I be of service?"

"You have been of great service to me already, sir. And I appreciate it. But I demand to see the beast." Errol said and the Witcher's eyes narrowed.

"You're really trying my patience. I understand your circumstances but you're pushing it." Geralt replied.

Dandelion then crawled out of his tent and stood by his friends, having heard the elven man's raised voice.

Errol glanced behind the three men, seeing the woman carefully climb from the back of the wagon and head toward a nearby tree.

"You!" he barked and shoved past them.

Confused Root turned toward the voice and was startled by the figure coming toward her, his blue eyes filled with fire. She limped backwards on her injured feet, wincing in pain.

"Why!? Why did you save me? Answer me you filth! What's your reason?!" he spat at her. "Answer me!"

"I…what?" she stammered and squealed as he gripped her shoulders and shook her.

"What's your motive you monster?!" he screamed into her face.

Both Regis and Geralt rushed to grab the man and held him back, restraining his arms behind him while Dandelion helped a very embarrassed and wet Root get back into the carriage to change.

"You answer me right now you disgusting creature! You must want something!" He yelled after her. "Let me go!"

They released the elf but both men stood protectively in front of the carriage, barring him from going after her.

"You can't hide her from me for long. I will have my answers!" he said and spit.

"You will not touch her again." Regis said in a soft but deadly tone that made the elf step back, unsure why he was suddenly filled with dread.

"I know what she really is. You may have all been fooled by her charms but you'll see. When her fangs come for your throat, you'll see." Errol replied.

It took all of Emiel Regis' willpower to keep himself from baring his own fangs at the bigoted man, even as he understood why the elf bore such hatred toward werewolves. Then from inside they heard,

"Root, I don't think that's a good idea…"

The forest maiden slid from the back of the carriage and nearly fell, crying out as her injured feet touched the ground. Regis and Geralt turned and helped her, and the vampire closed his eyes, knowing what had happened to the stitches. He glared at the elf. Root limped toward Errol, her green eyes blazing.

"You want to know what I want?!" she screamed at him. "I want people to stop judging others based on who or what they are! I want elves to stop killing humans, dwarves to stop killing elves, humans to stop killing everyone else! How's that for starters?"

Root advanced on him, limping, and the elf backed away from the furious woman who continued.

"I want people like you to stop hating me because of circumstances of my birth that I had no say in! How's that? I want vampires and witchers, werewolves, leshan, dragons and all other manner of beings to learn to live together! I'd like a world where I didn't have to fear for my life going into a city! Is that enough? What else would you like to know, Errol?" Root said with Regis and Geralt standing near by.

"Why did I save you? Is that all?" she screamed at him, her voice raw. "I saved you because you're a person! Because you're part of our group. Because Cera and Valonna need you! I have done nothing to you but you hold me responsible for your pain simply because I share the blood of wolves! I AM NOT YOUR ATTACKER, ERROL!"

The elf was speechless as Root continued to advance on him with fury in her clenched fists. But she stumbled, crying loudly as her wounds tore, and she fell into the snow, blood staining her footprints.

"Regis…" she groaned, and the vampire was instantly by her side. "Help me…"

Regis touched her and cradled her limp body in his arms, lifting her easily.

"Her wounds have re-opened, Geralt. Get this man out of my sight before I lose it." He said and climbed into the back. "Dandelion, I need your help."

The elf backed away as the leather clad, cloaked Witcher advanced on him with blazing golden eyes, slipping the steel sword from the sheath on his back.

"No!" called out Valonna's voice. "No, please, Gwynbleidd! I beg you."

The elven woman raced to the Speaker and stood in front of him.

"I know it was wrong what he said. But please spare him! The bleidd beanna is right, we need him. Please, White Wolf, show mercy!" She pleaded.

Geralt's eyes pierced the elven man, who in some way seemed to have come to his senses, standing speechless in the snow, terrified as the master swordsman held him at sword point. The Witcher sheathed his blade and turned away from them without a word.

"These are worse now than before." Regis said, his voice quivering with anger. "See where the skin has newly torn? I have to take these old stitches out and redo them. And she's bleeding again. Geralt, ah good, you thought to grab the kettle. Excellent. Dandelion, here, take this cloth, soak it in the hot water and be ready to clean as I snip these stitches."

The vampire carefully cut the old thread from her foot and the ugly wound bled freshly as it opened. Dandelion was ready with the steaming cloth and pressed it to the slit.

"Oh, gods, that's bad." The poet said, looking up at the surgeon.

"It is. Geralt, hand me that vial of white powder in my bag. Yes, that one. This should clot the blood." He said, sprinkling it generously over the wound. "Her blood is clean, no infection. I have to work quickly with the stitch. Start snipping the threads on the other and get a clean cloth, Dandelion. Good work."

The three men worked together and soon the woman's feet were re-stitched, clean and wrapped in the sterile gauze. Regis wiped his hands on a clean cloth and sighed.

"Regis." Geralt said quietly. "You could just…you know…"

The vampire nodded. "I know. But believe me when I say that her becoming addicted to my blood would be far worse of an ordeal to handle than this. I've considered it. No, this is the better course of action, to allow her body to heal on its own. If she was unable to regenerate, or her life was in danger, then of course I'd like her drink."

The Witcher nodded and he and the bard climbed out of the carriage to attend to their camp. Regis covered the woman up with a warm blanket and lay beside her for a while as she slept.

As afternoon approached, the sun warmed their camp to a wonderfully appreciated temperature such that the horses wandered around, pawing through the softened snow to graze on the grasses beneath. The elven camp was silent, as if all of them were embarrassed and ashamed over what their Speaker had done. Valonna would not meet their gaze. The children, however, were delighted with the warmer weather and they showed it by building forts and having snowball fights with Dandelion. At one point, little Cera found her way over to the Witcher, who was sitting by their fire tending to his chain maile and having a pipe. He smiled at the little half-elf.

"Bleidd beanna OK, Gwynbleidd?" she asked. "Come play?"

Geralt shook his head, and held the pipe. "No, I'm sorry, Cera. Root, wolf woman, is still unwell today. I know she misses you though."

The little girl took a piece of folded parchment from her coat pocket and handed it to him.

"Give to her?" she asked.

"Of course, little one." He said and patted her.

"Come on, Cera!" Dandelion called. "Your turn to be it!"

The Witcher had to give it to the bard. That man could charm anyone; men, women, kids, it didn't matter. He knew how to brighten anyone's day and make them happy. Although he reminded himself that his old friend equally knew how to drive a person absolutely mad with his loose tongue. Cera turned and dashed back to the merry group of kids as the brightly colored bard deftly avoided being tagged.

"He's a good man." Regis said, coming to the fire. "And I need a proper kettle of tea. I dare say if I see that elf he's going to regret it. I notice he's been invisible since this morning."

"You and me both." Geralt said, holding the pipe in his teeth while unsheathing his blades to clean them. "There is something that still puzzles me though."

"Oh?" the vampire said, dropping the plants into the water to steep.

"We still don't know what happened between Root and Arklan. That half-elf said nasty things, and yet Root…well, she almost seemed to pity him. But with Errol I notice that he too says nasty things, but we don't see that same side of her. What makes them different I wonder?" Geralt said, oiling the steel sword.

Regis considered that while pouring his tea.

"I've thought about that too. One thing I've noted is that Root seems to tolerate comments about herself with a sort of resignation. But do you notice how she gets really upset when comments are directed toward you?" he replied.

Geralt paused and thought about that, remembering the conversation in the dungeon, as well as the recent conversation with the cultists.

 _You just had to have a conscience didn't you, White Wolf? You, who call yourself a witcher, a slayer of monsters. Yet look around you! Here stands a woman born of an unholy union between a filthy beast and a certain breed of vampire. Two of the foulest creatures to pollute our world and you would call her friend!? How dare you stand in judgment over me when you yourself are acting against your very nature, what we created you to be! You're a disgrace. A mutant freak…_

 _Part of our faith means killing the unworthy. Elves are not meant to live alongside the master race, nor are you. Witchers were a mistake. A foul abomination made by lesser, unenlightened generations. We undo that mistake with every death. So you see, you do have a quarrel with us whether you want to or not._

"I think you're onto something there." He said, drawing deeply on the pipe.

Geralt told Regis about what the cultists said about witchers and the vampire nodded.

"Errol's venom is directed at her, well mostly. And he seems to take issue with you and I for being in a relationship with her. But we all know his real problem is her non-human nature. And so I wager that Root accepts that kind of nasty commentary about her as, well part of what she believes she deserves in life. As exampled by things we've learned recently. Where as she seems to understand that when such things are directed at others it's a violation of sorts, cruel and it upsets her so she fights back. I'd be willing to bet that if Errol had said those things about me, if he knew that is, or you, that he too would be as dead as Arklan aen Caem." The vampire said, sipping his tea.

The Witcher nodded and slipped his swords into their coverings with a click. He tapped out the pipe and sat warming his hands.

"Well, hopefully the elf learned a lesson today." Regis continued. "We won't kill him. And we cannot allow her to kill him either, at least for the sake of the children and Val. But he learned we won't let him abuse her, verbally or otherwise. The man is free to have his bigoted thoughts, as far as I'm concerned. But should he lay a hand on her again…"

"He won't have hands." Geralt growled. "Let's not think on it. I'm still pissed about this morning."

"Indeed. As am I. But on that note, Root has been in bed for about two days with little to eat or drink and no exercise. My concern is that our lady is used to being wild and active. It saddens me to see her so confined, having to sleep much of the time." Regis said.

The Witcher nodded in agreement. "The main trouble is she cannot walk very well, if at all at the moment, especially in this snow. If I felt she could get around on her own, I could perhaps bear her refusing pain relief during the day. Or at least manage it with some of your other medicinal plants."

"Well, she was able to start walking, albeit very carefully, this morning but…well yeah…" Regis said and both men fell silent.

"You're the expert, Regis." Geralt said, pouring some coffee. "I leave it to you to decide what's best and we'll follow your lead."

Dandelion waved to the children as he walked back to camp and they ran back to their families for a late lunch. He was out of breath and warmed himself at the fire.

"Whew, those kids will wear one out!" he said. "It's a shame they have such a jerk for a Speaker. I'll get some lunch going for us and we should think about supper too, gentleman. Is Root still asleep?"

Regis nodded. "Yes. I'll wake her in a bit to check her dressing and help her get some necessities done as well. I suppose I'd better get another decoction ready for tonight. That way she can eat and move around a bit as before."

As evening fell over the land, and the winter sky became a dark shade of violet, the vampire climbed into the back of the home on wheels with food. Generous portions of venison steak, mashed potatoes, steamed parsnips and carrots with butter and a chunk of bread filled the plate, enough for a hungry werewolf. He set it on the nightstand and sat next to Root, who was sleeping so deeply and peacefully that he hated to wake her, knowing she'd be in agony. He'd woken her a few times earlier to help her relieve herself, and seeing her struggle as she limped out into the cold, her eyes brimming with tears of pain, was so difficult for all of them. Regis lightly touched her cheek, waking her from the deep sleep. She blinked and turned to look at him, trying her best to smile.

"Hello, my love." She said softly.

"My dear, Root." He replied helping her sit up. "I've brought dinner. Up you get."

"Thank you. Oh goodness I'm hungry." She said, gratefully accepting the plate.

Regis was pleased to see her appetite was good and strong and the woman devoured the meal, finishing off the gravy with a sweep around the plate with the bread.

"I also need to check the dressings." He said, carefully uncovering her feet and examining them.

The stitches were holding and clean, so the healer was satisfied with the work he and the others had done.

"These should be fine until morning." He said, taking her hands in his. "I have some more of the redcoat decoction going if you'd like that instead of sleeping again."

"I would like that. Oww…" she said, wincing. "Who knew I'd ever tire of that?"

Regis grinned at her. "Tire? Is that supposed to be funny, my dear?"

Root laughed lightly, a sound that brought joy to his heart. Regis leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

They both turned as Geralt opened the flap of the carriage.

"Alright, idea." He said smiling at Root. "Can we bring her out, Regis? You have to come see this. And it's warmer."

The healer nodded. "Yes. Root just slide forward until Geralt can pick you up. I'll bring the blankets."

"No, wait, wait!" Dandelion said before the Witcher took her out. "Blindfold her first."

"Wait, what? Owwww…" Root said with a pout. "What's going on?"

"You'll see, Roo." The bard replied. "You'll love it. Just close your eyes."

Regis used one of the cloths in his bag to blindfold the woman as Geralt picked her up and carried her to a place by the fire. Regis then covered her, his eyes looking out into the distance and seeing what she could not.

"Is this ready for her to drink?" Geralt asked, and Regis nodded.

"Yes. Three cups like before should do it." He said, noticing Root's shudder of pain. "I know, my dear. Here you are."

Root drank the foul tasting herbal, and after the third cup she waited patiently for that feeling of relief she knew was coming.

"When can I take this blindfold off, Dandelion?" she asked. "Ack, that tastes awful."

"When we know you're feeling the effects." He said, looking to Regis.

"Give it a bit." He said, keeping her warm. "There's a slight delay before it kicks in"

"Well, I can't see anything. How are you going to know if anything is going on?" she replied.

"When you forget about the pain." Geralt replied, as all three men sat around the fire with her.

After about ten minutes of listening to the fire crackle, Root sighed, a sound of happiness and relief, and leaned into Regis.

"Oh yes…that's sooooo good." She sighed, her voice breathy.

"Now." Regis said, and slipped the blindfold from her eyes.

Root blinked, slightly blinded by the firelight and saw the faces of her friends near her. The happy and cheerful Dandelion, looking absolutely stunning such that she blushed, not ever really thinking of him that way; her powerful and mighty hunter Geralt with glittering golden eyes, white hair and a playful smirk on his scarred face; and the love of her life, Emiel Regis, pale, immortal and handsome, his eyes reflecting the fire.

"Look up, darling." Regis whispered in her ear and he pointed to the sky.

Root followed his finger and gasped as her eyes were riveted on the ribbons of color that filled the sky like a multi-colored river of light. Greens, blush colored pinks, purples, fiery oranges and more flickered into the vault of the sky, shimmered, and then danced back into the starry darkness. But to the forest maiden it was as if they were close enough to touch. Amazed and stunned, she reached for the bands of the aurora as if she could pull them from the heavens and play with them. The sky was clear and beautiful, the temperature much warmer and the elves too couldn't help but rejoice with a bit of music and dance, as if they could join the northern lights in their wheel about the sky.

"Happy solstice, Root." Geralt said softly, kissing the top of her head.

"As the days get brighter, so too are our days brighter with you in it." Regis said, his voice full of love.

"Aww that was going to be my line." Dandelion said with a wink. "A very happy solstice evening, Roo."

"Ah, speaking of which." Geralt said. "Cera brought this for you."

The Witcher handed Root the folded parchment and she opened it to see a lovely child's drawing of a big brown wolf pulling kids around on a sled. All happy and smiling. She held the picture to her chest and sniffed. Root had never felt so alive, loved and cared for than she did at that moment.

"I love you all so much." She said, looking at each of them. "Thank you."

There were no words needed to express all they felt, everyone knew. And as the redcoat medicinal really kicked in, Root began to laugh and giggle at every little thing they said and did; enjoying the aurora as they flickered over the river and painted the far distant mountains, where in lie Kaer Morhen, in shades of deepest green.

"Now they're like your eyes, me minne." Regis said, enjoying a pipe and Root became fascinated by the smoke whenever he exhaled.

She watched it swirl around him, mesmerized by the trails it created, while Geralt carved a piece of wood and Dandelion strummed his lute. By that time, Root had completely and utterly forgotten about her injuries and as the mandrake began to kick in, she yawned sleepily.

"I haffa bee." She said, rubbing her eyes.

Geralt nodded to the other two men, brought her to the nearest tree, helped her go and then cradled her in his strong arms.

"Sleepy time for you." The hunter said softly. "Come on."

"Good night my Regis…nigh nigh Dandelion…" she said, waving at them.

"I'll be in shortly, my love." The vampire said. "Sleep well and deeply."

"Nighters, Roo." The bard called as Geralt stepped up into the back.

The Witcher laid her down gently and Root smiled up at him, a very deep, sexual longing in her pine green eyes. She spread her arms out over the pillows, inviting him. Geralt stripped off his clothing and grinned at her.

"You're going to be asleep in a few minutes, Root." He said, lying on his side next to her. "Mandrake root, remember?"

"I can stay awake." She said, looking at him through heavy lids. "Please, Gwynbleidd?"

"Not tonight." He said softly, holding up his wolf pendant. "Look."

To the woman's hallucinating mind, the pendant shimmered as if it were made of ice, sparkling in the dim candlelight. She reached for it but Geralt playfully held it just out of her reach each time.

"Ice wolf…my White Wolf…my…white…wo…"

The Witcher lowered the pendant as her voice trailed off and her hands lay still on the pillows. He covered the now sleeping woman and pinched out the candles. He then kissed her forehead and laid one arm over her protectively, getting a bit of good sleep himself.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

The next several days passed by without incident, with each member of the group doing what they could to help each other and make their camp more comfortable and productive. And still, none of the Witchers' party saw Speaker Errol. The man may as well have vanished, but of course they knew he must be around or Valonna would've inquired after him. Root's wounds continued to heal under the care of the master healer, who had her on a regimen of drinking healing teas, easy stretches and light exercise throughout the day and plenty of water. The woman also got generous portions of food for her meals and she didn't need to be sedated to relieve her pain after about a week, being able to sleep on her own with little discomfort. After another week went by of fine, warmer winter weather, walking was getting much easier such that she could do fine on her own, but shifting to her wolf form was still completely out of the question as Regis was certain the change would stress the wounds and reverse the progress made. Root, though, missed her wild form.

As late afternoon fell, just about two weeks after the confrontation with the Speaker, Root was seated beside the fire, sewing some more of her sign amulets to sell whenever they made it to a market. Dandelion was bustling around the outdoor kitchen and she could scent the delicious aroma of wild turkey being prepared with garlic and onions. Geralt was brushing down the horses while Regis gave them their feed bags and covered them with blankets. He handed each of them a carrot and gave them a pat.

"I bet you long for a tasty summer apple don't you ole girl?" he said, rubbing Roach's muzzle. "Me too."

Root swallowed, feeling a familiar sensation in her throat, but hid her reaction as Dandelion came to the fire with the covered iron crock filled with a stuffed turkey surrounded by a bright selection of winter vegetables.

"Ahh here we go. Just need to nestle this into these fine embers and it should be ready in a few hours. Hungry, Root?" the bard asked.

"Always." She said with a big smile. "You're quite the cook, master bard."

"I'm master of many things, my dear." He said with a wink that made her flush bright pink from her ear tips to her toes. "That's the look I missed!"

Dandelion gave her a friendly kiss on the head and went to start making dessert.

The woman's eyes then caught those of her vampire love gazing at her with a knowing look. She quickly looked away, ashamed of her feelings, ashamed that she felt such a craving but fought fiercely to control it, ashamed that she thought of tearing into live prey to drain them of their blood. Regis ached for her. He knew how difficult it was to master the thirst, having once struggled with it himself. And yet unlike him, Root could not go without drinking, and it had to be his blood, for nothing else in all the worlds would slake that thirst. He walked to her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Do not be ashamed, my love." He whispered. "You're doing very well. You are strong."

Root swallowed again, swearing she could hear the blood rushing through his veins, and it took all of her strength to not lean toward his wrist, so near her mouth. He gently squeezed her shoulder, unafraid, trusting her completely, reading her thoughts.

"Very good." He said proudly as she turned her mind toward other things, diverting her attention. "Well done."

"Geralt! Come quickly, please." Valonna called out from the elven camp.

Everyone looked up, hearing the distinct sound of worry. She was near the switchback when the white haired warrior approached.

"There." She said, pointing into the darkening valley. "See the riders?"

At the base of the cliff side, beginning the ascent, were indeed several riders on horseback, each bearing a torch. Even his keen eyes couldn't make them out from that distance, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

"Get the children. All of you inside your tents until I say it's clear. Where the fuck is that worthless Speaker of yours?" Geralt asked.

"I'm here, Gwynbleidd." Errol replied, appearing for what seemed like the first time in two weeks. "What can I do?"

"You're their leader. You're with me. Arm yourself." Geralt said.

"I'm not much of a leader but…"

"Then start being one you twit." The hunter growled. "No time for your self-pity now. Pull yourself together, we don't know who comes."

Errol nodded and helped Valonna round up the little ones, setting one of his scouts near the top to watch the advance of the riding party. Geralt returned to their camp.

"Root, get inside the carriage. You too Dandelion." He said strapping on his twin blades.

"What's going on?" Root asked as the bard helped her stand.

"Riders ascending the switchback. I counted at least eight. Could be nothing, but we need to be prepared. Regis, with me." The warrior said.

Regis nodded to the bard, but Root held his hand.

"I can help, my love. I can." She said, gazing into his dark eyes. "You know I fight well."

But the healer shook his head.

"No, me minne. Your wounds will open again if you change. I'm sure of it. You're almost fully healed. It may be humble travelers like us, no need to worry. Off you go."

But she was worried as the bard gently pulled her away. Root climbed up into the carriage with the poet following behind and Regis latched it closed. He then joined Geralt, Errol and the two elven archers at the top of the switchback. No one had their weapons drawn, but five men together, one of them clad in silvery maile with witcher swords on his back, the other hooded and leaning on a heavy recurve longbow almost as tall as himself, with another figure, unarmed, looking calm and mysteriously dark being backlit by the campfires, were quite the imposing sight.

As the sun set, the switchback was lost in darkness. All they could see as they watched was the advance of torchlight.

"Surely they must've seen us?" Errol said, glancing at Geralt. "If they were hostile they'd have done something by now; said something."

Geralt nodded, keeping his eyes on the advancing party as they rounded the last curve and began climbing the path that would take them to the top, right to their position. Regis raised his head, scenting a familiar tang on the air. Near their camp, a chestnut horse whinnied and he heard Root's voice.

"No, Dandelion, it's fine. I know who it is."

"Temerian draft horses, Geralt." Regis commented. "Rogues or deserters wouldn't have such fine steeds."

The chestnut stallion cantered forward as the lead rider cleared the top and slipped the black wool hood from his head. The Witcher grinned and breathed a sigh of relief as the rest of the riders circled around, with the last rider pulling a covered cart.

"Ah. You are still here then, eh? My scouts deserve a raise. Glad we were able to reach you, Geralt. Emiel, good to see you again." He said dismounting.

"Vernon!" Root called, walking slowly toward them with Dandelion helping.

"Why is she limping?" Vernon asked, patting his old stallion as it nudged him for the apple in his pouch. "Hey, ole boy. Yeah, yeah, here."

"Long story." Geralt said, resisting the urge to glare at the Speaker. "Tell your people it's fine to come out, Errol. This is a trusted friend."

The Speaker nodded, shouldered his bow and returned to the camp just as the forest maiden reached them and threw her arms around Vernon's neck.

"I'm sorry, Regis. I tried to stop her, I did! But she…well…never mind…"

The soldier hugged her back, pleased to see the woman he'd spent many nights thinking about since leaving.

"Greetings, Root." Roche said. "It makes me happy to see you again. But why are limping? What's happened?"

"Oh, never mind. It's wonderful to see you." She said. "But goodness what are you doing out here?"

"I've much to report. Let my men and I set up camp, unload our tired mounts and I shall join you soon." Vernon replied and began issuing orders to the soldiers with him.

"We shall be glad of it, Vernon." Regis replied and turned to the poet, crossing his arms, and giving him a stern look.

"Regis, now look. You know how hard it is to say no to her. I tried to keep her in there. But she just…I…I couldn't stop myself. I'm sorry." He said, with the vampire turning his head curiously.

"What do you mean?" he asked, glancing at Root, who was making her way back to camp with Geralt.

"I…I don't know exactly. I just…she told me to help her down from the carriage and even though my brain was telling me not to, I found myself doing it. It's…yeah…I've no idea." Dandelion explained.

"She's testing her powers." Regis replied with a sly grin. "What did she say? What did she do? How did it feel? Forgive my curiosity but this is fascinating! She's the only one of her kind in our world and we get to watch her discover how her unique nature operates. Tell me what you can."

"Uhhh well, um, ok. Well, she didn't do anything per se." the bard began. "All I know is that she made this sort of face at me, like a kind of…pout. Like, oh man how do I say this…"

"Like a woman who wants sex and shyly smiles up at you?" Regis answered for him.

"Yes! Exactly like that. She just…oh man those green eyes. She just looked at me and told me to help and…that was it. But the weird thing about it is that I knew what I was doing, I just couldn't stop. It felt really strange." He said. "If I'm honest it was a little frightening. I see now why those cultists ran away. She can project…things…into you."

"Explain." Regis said as they made a wide circle around the camp to continue their talk.

Dandelion was quiet for a moment, trying to find words to explain how he felt when the forest maiden had looked at him. He continued.

"So I said to her, "Root, no, you have to stay here. How can you know who that is?" And she answered, "I can smell him." Which, can she? I suppose so. Anyways, I kept on, saying, "Regis will likely tan my hide if I don't keep you here." And that's when she stopped, turned her head in that cute way that she does, and looked right up into my eyes and said, "Please help me down from the carriage, master bard." And I felt…like I felt this overwhelming urge to aid her such that I found my body moving and my brain screaming at me. It's like…she…"

"She projected into you the urge to help her because she seemed so small, so needing of your help. Like an irresistible need to defend an innocent." Regis said and the bard practically leapt into the air.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, and then lowered his voice. "That's exactly it. Wait, how do you know this?"

"Vampire abilities, it would seem, are similar in some ways. My power is more of a domination of the mind. Whereas our Root seems to exude some sort of aura that entices others to do as she says, but without completely negating their free will; more seductive than domineering. However, as you said, it would also seem she can project other things as well. Power, for example. Making herself seem more than she is. Like a blowfish puffing itself up to look more menacing."

"A what?" Dandelion said with a raised eyebrow.

"Never mind." Regis answered. "And yes, she can smell blood from far away. I would wager from very far because of her wolf senses, perhaps her own vampiric nature and of course my own blood coursing through her veins. So that's what she did to the cultists, eh? Projected a huge amount of confidence and power, and coupled that with aggressive movements to scare the pants off of them while sapping their energy. Clever girl."

"And you know what, Regis? I'm not sure she knows what she's doing." The bard said as they neared the camp.

"Oh, I know she knows." Regis said in almost a whisper, tapping the side of his head. "Well, I should clarify; she knows what she did to you and to the zealots. There are other times she's been unaware. She's still learning. But more later."

The two men returned to their fire. Geralt had gone to help Vernon and company unpack the supply laden horses and set up their tents, with Errol and some of the elves assisting them as well. Which pleased Regis to see the Speaker making himself useful rather than sulking about somewhere as he'd been wont to do since the confrontation. Roche's men placed their camp across from the carriage home, adjacent to the elves. And soon the large, spacious tents of rich, royal blue were up with fires blazing in front of each. The banners of the Temerian lillies and the Blue Stripes marked the outside of Vernon Roche's personal tent situated closest to Geralt's camp. Dandelion helped by bringing supplies of firewood to the new members, as well as checking on the elves. Root watched everyone being useful and sighed, returning to her sewing of amulets. Regis poured a cup of tea and sat beside her.

"Soon, my love. Here you are." He said handing her the cup.

Root smiled and sipped the healing herbal that Regis had been making. The vampire gazed at her with his dark eyes, admiring the woman he loved so much. The firelight flickered and danced across her skin, now so much paler in the winter than it had been when they'd first met in late summer. Her short hair curled just below her earlobe, and her fingers worked a needle and thread effortlessly as she sewed pieces of oak, mistletoe, lavender, chamomile and redcoat cap into her last piece of light purple fabric.

"Axii?" Regis asked. "Let me see. Oak for strength of mind, mistletoe for attraction, yes? Lavender and chamomile to calm and redcoat, also known as crimson vision, so they see what you want them to?"

The woman smiled brightly and nodded. "I love that you can work that out. Yes. Axii. Only this one will be for those who want to draw love or a lover to themselves. A bit on the edgier side of magical working but some people will want it."

Regis pondered the notion of a lover gained by magical influence and whether it could be considered true love or not. But she was right; there were people who'd pay for it.

"True enough." He said softly.

The bard was helping to unload the small cart, and in it he spied a short, wide barrel filled with apples. And next to it a crate with several bottles of what could only be…

"Mead!" he said excitedly. "Vernon, my man, I hope we can pass this around."

The commander of the Blue Stripes gave him a grin as he lifted more of the supplies from the cart, walking them to his large tent.

"Crack open a bottle, Dandelion. My men and I could use a drink." He said.

Dandelion set down the crate of booze and grabbed a bottle.

"Better uncork two." Roche said, clapping him on the shoulder. "We're thirsty."

When everyone had finally settled in, Vernon issued orders for his men to participate in the nightly watch schedule, and then joined Geralt and company at their fire. They immediately wanted news of Foltest and the wars in other nations. But Root, who had no interest in such things, looked over at the elves. The camp of aen seidhe was quiet that night, unsure what to make of the small troop of soldiers that had joined them; even though the Witcher had said they could be trusted. Errol sat at his fire, oiling the wood of his powerful sniping bow made of the strong, supple wood of Brokilon forest itself. Next to him lay a shorter version of the same for closer targets. Valonna and Cera sat together opposite him, the elven woman rocking the child and humming. Root watched them, her eyes lingering on the elven leader, and she felt a mixture of fear and anger when she thought about what had happened. But she made up her mind and rose from the fire, the men all looking up at her, but she smiled and waved away any help.

"No, no, please continue, gentleman. I just need to get a few things." She said, and went to the storage area underneath the carriage seat.

Root lined two, small woven baskets with flour sack towels and filled them with some of the sugar cookies that Dandelion had made for dessert one night. But in one of them, she placed two amulets, one quen and one aard. She then poured a glass of chilled goat milk and set the items on a tray. Turning, she looked to the elven camp, took a breath, and headed over. Regis glanced up as she passed and the ghost of a smile appeared on his face, but he remained silent.

Valonna was the first to see her coming and smiled warmly, motioning her over. Root passed the Speaker, who glanced at her but said nothing, continuing to tend to his prized weapons. The forest maiden set the tray on a log stump and Cera slid down her mothers' lap and hopped up into Root's arms.

"Hi, bleidd!" she said and gave her a nuzzle, nose to nose, giggling. "You better?"

"I'm doing much better, thank you." Root said, much cheered by the friendly greeting. "And thank you for the wonderful picture. You're quite the artist, Cera."

The little girl squealed with joy and hugged her as she sat beside the elven mother.

"Greetings, Root. It is good to see you." Valonna said with a nod.

"It's great to be up and about. And it's so much warmer too, thank the spirits." She said. "I brought a bit of a bedtime treat, if that's alright, to share."

Root handed Valonna the small basket of cookies and nodded to the milk.

"Of course." She said as Cera clapped. "Alright, alright, little one, just a few. Thank you, Root."

"Cookies!" Cera said, shoveling one of the heavily sugared, cream colored discs into her mouth.

Her eyes lit up, as she licked the crystal bits of sugar that the bard had dusted the finished cookies with. Cera enjoyed her glass of milk while the two women chatted amiably together about the day's events and the arrival of the soldiers.

"We were nervous at first." Valonna said. "But seeing how you all know the man Vernon Roche so well, it's quite clear we have nothing to fear from them. How did you come to know this man of the court?"

Root thought back to her time spent at the palace, her face darkening as painful memories stirred. She remembered Roche standing in the dungeon, lit by torchlight, stern and powerful in his bearing. Root had lingered on that image before, but she quickly chased it away, coming back to the moment. And too she thought of Arklan, glancing over to Errol.

"That's…kind of a long story and, one I can't share much of. Let's just say he and I met in a meadow one night and I fainted." She replied with a smile, biting into a cookie.

"I see." The woman replied, respecting Root's desire for privacy. "Well, to those of us who live in the wilds, it's strange to see the banners of the city folk and not view them as aggressors. I'm sure you understand. One more Cera and then we need to get you ready for bed."

"Awww, mama." Cera pouted, sipping the milk, which left a white line above her lip. "Bleidd beanna sleep over?"

The women laughed together, and Root reached over and tousled her hair.

"I'm afraid not, little one. I've got to make sure Gwynbleidd and the others are protected, safe and sound too." Root said, reaching into her pocket. "Here. I'd like you to have this."

Root opened her palm and in it lay a red igni amulet hanging from some cotton twine.

"I made some protection amulets with powerful, magical plants from the forest. And you know what?" the werewolf said, leaning forward, whispering.

"What?" Cera said, fascinated by any talk of magic.

"The White Wolf himself infused these with witcher power." She said and Cera gasped, her eyes widening. "It will keep you safe. You might even be able to feel the warmth of the sign that lives inside the pouch. Never open it though, or the magic will escape. OK?"

The small elf nodded and Valonna smiled as Root slipped the amulet over Cera's head.

"Time for sleep, little Cera. What do you say?"

"Thank you, wolf woman Root. Wait…" Cera said, and climbed down from Valonna's lap, and rushed across the snow paths to where Geralt sat with the gentleman of the party.

The White Wolf leaned down to the child and then smiled when she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. His golden eyes found Root across the camp and the werewolf waved at him. Cera raced back and jumped up into Errol's waiting arms. The elven man kissed the child on the forehead and handed her off to the mother.

"Good night, little Cera." He said kindly. "I'll see you soon, Val. My watch isn't for a while yet. I'd just like to finish this up."

"Very well. Thank you for the gifts, Root." Valonna said. "Good night."

"Sleep well." Root replied and waved at Cera, who looked back at her over Valonna's shoulder.

The forest maiden turned to Errol, who had seated himself again at the fire and picked up his short bow, examining the drawstring. Root softly bit her lip, and set the second basket down near him.

"Good night, Speaker." She said quietly, and grabbed the tray with empty glass.

The elf looked at the basket and lowered his bow. He was completely unsure what to do or think.

"Wait." He said finally, and Root turned, meeting his blue eyes.

The elf looked into the basket, seeing the cookies and the two amulets resting on the top.

"Is it true? What you told Cera about the Witcher infusing these with power?" he asked, holding one of them in his palm.

Root nodded. "It is. That one is quen, the other is aard. Both are forms of protection."

"One offensive, one defensive." He replied. "You made these yourself?"

"Yes. To help us make a bit of coin when we reach Oxenfurt." She replied.

The Speaker actually smiled at her. "Thank you."

Root nodded and gestured to his bows. "Beautiful craftsmanship those. The wood is from Brokilon if I'm not mistaken. You must be a decent shot to have such masterworks."

Speaker Errol shrugged. "I've been known to be. You know the great forest of the dryads then?"

"I've not been there, no. Studied it, and I've some druidic knowledge and lore. But I lived with some elves for a time some years ago, and several of them had bows of similar make. They're powerful and silent when they release, making them great for hunting." She said, remembering her time spent with the aen seidhe, acting as their land warden.

"They are indeed. So you lived with elves?" Errol asked. "And they…they knew what you were…erm…are?"

"Yes. After my father died and I left the homestead. And yes, they knew. They taught me much herbal lore and some of their language, although I only know a few words here and there really." She replied with a long yawn. "Oh, my. I should be going."

"Of course." Errol said quietly. "I apologize if I kept you."

"No, no it's…just, long day is all." She said and turned to leave.

Root made it about half way back to the camp, hearing the sounds of Vernon, Geralt, Dandelion, a couple of the soldiers and Regis all playing Barrel around an overturned crate, when Errol got up quickly and followed her.

"Wait." He called, and reached for her, stopping short of laying a hand on her shoulder when Regis locked eyes with him from across the camp. "Root, wait."

The woman turned, oblivious to the vampires' unspoken warning to the elf. The Speaker lowered his hand and his hood.

"I…I'm sorry; for what I said and for your injuries." He said and Root's eyes widened. "I would like it if we could talk again sometime. If…if you'd do me the pleasure."

The woman was speechless as her green eyes filled with tears.

"I…I would like that." She managed to reply, wiping her eyes. "Thank you…"

But her voice broke and she had to turn away before breaking down into a mess of emotion, walking as quickly as her sore feet could take her to the home on wheels. The Speaker looked to Regis and nodded once, then returned to his own fire.

"All right, gentlemen, who's in and who's out?" Dandelion said with a heap of coins piled up on his side of the crate and a pipe clenched in his teeth.

"I think another bottle is in order." Roche said getting up from the make-shift card table. "I'll sit this hand out. Kick his ass, Wolf."

Geralt too was enjoying a smoke and grinned while shuffling the deck. "With pleasure. Regis, you in?"

"Not this round. I'll get the fire stoked up and I should check Root's bandages too." He replied and rose.

"All right, boys. Get ready to lose it all to the man responsible for divesting all, and I do mean all, of Novigrad's ladies of their maidenhood. Dandelion is in the house." The bard said, taking a long pull from a stein of honey wine. "Come on, Geralt, deal already."


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Regis shook his head and piled on a few large logs, for it was going to be a long, long night of drinking, smoking, gambling and story telling, in which he was eager to particpate, enjoying the camraderie of friends. But as he stood by the fire for a moment, he reflected on his long life. So much of it was spent in solitude, honing his herbal craft, some spent in the town of Dillingen as their barber-surgeon, healer, physician and herbalist, and long ago some spent in the company of other vampires. His dark eyes looked to the vault of the sky, seeing the moon as a sliver of silver, just past the new moon. And he found himself content with life, happy in the company of the Witcher, the always engaging and talented Dandelion, and for the first time in centuries he was around one of his own kind. Even though Root was not a higher vampire, at least not by the classifications of their world, Regis felt a kinship to her. He understood her urges, and her struggle to resist the drink as well as the lingering energies of those around her. He reflected back on when they'd first met, how she'd roared at them with such fury, and yet he knew, some how, that she'd never hurt them. So instant was their connection, that it no longer surprised him how quickly the forest maiden started to trust them both. Regis knew Geralt didn't abide much by destiny or fate, but the vampire wasn't sure. To him it seemed as if worlds were moved in order that he and Root would cross paths, and Geralt was the agent who made that happen.

"Or perhaps in some strange way we have the Wild Hunt to thank." He muttered quietly, remembering that it was Eredin and his cavalcade that had brought Root's parents together.

He didn't think they'd seen the last of the fearsome Red Riders either, and Regis wondered how they would strike at them next. But he felt confident that the king of the aen elle would not expend resources to chase Root down if he didn't have to. For him it was a point of pride, not necessity, for the Hunt had many slaves. And Geralt had given the Navigator quite the mark upon their last meeting, though the mighty general didn't even flinch when the arrow had embedded itself. The vampire had to hand it to the People of the Alders, they were powerful, something to be respected and noted when fighting them.

An eruption of laughter brought him out of his reverie, and Geralt tossed his cards down on the crate with a wicked grin and a glint in his golden eyes.

"Fair and square, Dandelion. Quit yer whining like an old ninny." He said and Roche clapped his shoulder.

Inside the carriage, Root sat against the drivers' bench with a blanket over her legs and a couple of candles lit, listening to the men having a wonderful time by the fire. She smiled, happy that her companions had more than just herself and the elves around for company. The flap opened and Regis climbed inside, kicking off his boots.

"Hello, my love." She said, marking her place in the book as he sat beside her. "Sounds like you're having a great time with Vernon. I'm so glad to see him again."

Regis nodded. "Indeed. I do miss social gatherings myself. When I lived at court, years ago now, we would dance and debate till all hours, enjoying the company of great minds."

"Do you miss them?" Root asked, hugging her knees.

"Sometimes, yes. It's been many long years and so many of them have died. It's a burden at times, outliving your friends and loved ones." He said with slight sadness.

The woman stroked his hand, curling her fingers into his. "Then I'm glad I shall never give you that burden."

Regis smiled at her. "Let us hope not. You are immortal, my dear, but like myself, you can still be killed. But let us not dwell on that."

The vampire looked into her eyes, holding her spellbound for just a moment and then released her. She blushed and looked down shyly while he laughed softly.

"Root?" he said quietly. "What did you do to Dandelion?"

The woman paused for a moment, and then looked up, peering at him with smouldering green eyes that were dark like the pine forests of Nilfgaard. He felt a pull within, deep within, as if she were summoning something, bringing it to the surface. He felt an urge grow that he hadn't felt in centuries.

 _Dandelion was right_. He thought. _My, that's powerful._

"No, Root." he said softly, a slight tone of warning in his voice.

The woman reached for him and carressed the smooth skin of his face, drawing him close and kissing him, licking his lip. Regis was amazed by the powerful allure that radiated from her and he let himself be led by it for just a moment, experiencing Root's exploration of her vampiric abilities.

"A'beath me, me minne." She purred, and by "kiss" he knew what she was trying to get him to do.

So he didn't enjoy what he did next, but the ancient found he needed to teach her a lesson. Regis growled at her, showing his teeth. Root snapped right out of trying to use her abilities, blinked several times, and instantly started to tear up, trembling.

"I…I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Regis…I…"

The higher vampire was silent, gazing at her with stern, dark eyes, veiling his fangs again.

"Would you have me violate myself, my principles, in order to please you?" he asked, a little more harshly than he'd meant to.

Root's face contorted in sorrow and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"No! No, of course not. I'm sorry. I was…"

Root threw herself into Regis' arms, crying into his chest and he held her close. He understood how those new to their powers often pushed the limits, tested boundaries and even sometimes broke the rules. Recalling his own faults as a young vampire, he then felt bad for scaring her. And too he knew that he'd somewhat over-reacted, with drinking being a very sensitive issue for him personally, and one she didn't fully understand.

"Shhh, hush now, my sweet one." He said, altering his voice to soothe her. "I'm sorry I frightened you so badly. You're learning, Root. I should've been more patient. I would never hurt you, my love. Correct you, yes. But I'll never hurt you."

Root felt awful inside for what she'd attempted, knew it was colossolly selfish of her to try, and the guilt she felt due to his rebuke was eating her up.

"Besides, it's not like you will be able to truly overwhelm me, Root. Remember, you belong to me. Not the other way around." Regis said, tilting her chin up and kissing her forehead. "Although the bard was right. You are powerful."

Root looked down and wiped her eyes, and Regis held her to his chest, covering the woman with a blanket.

"We will learn together, my dear. There may come a day when what you just did may serve you well. I can see many contexts in which bringing hidden urges to the surface could be useful. But in general, using such powers of persuasion on friends and loved ones is not looked upon well in vampire society. There now, that's enough. It is done, my love. I need to check your bandages in a bit. It may be that the stitches can come out soon." Regis said, but she continued to cry softly. "What is wrong, my darling?"

But she shook her head, resting against him. Regis connected to her thoughts, his eyes widening by what he saw and sensed.

"You're starving." He said quietly, tilting her head up to look at her. "Root, why aren't you feeding?"

Regis then realized that he hadn't felt her draw energy from him, or anyone around them for some time. They'd all been so occupied in what had transpired with the cultists, the frostbite, Errol and her own injuries that he hadn't noticed. The vampire read her mind, and saw that she'd been deliberately starving herself in an attempt to not hurt her friends, deriving nourishment only from the foods she was eating. But her vampire side was ravenous and now it made sense to him why her powers seemed so very strong; they were fueled by need, but misdirected out of ignorance.

"So your powers grow the hungrier you become." He said quietly, taking her hand and holding it to his chest. "Root, you need to feed. Come on now. There you go. You can't hurt me, my love. Good."

The woman's green eyes slipped closed as his strong energy flowed into her body after weeks of not letting herself absorb any from those around her. It felt like a deluge flooding the dry cracks of a parched desert, seeping into every corner of her being, filling her with relief. Her hands tingled as vitality poured in and she groaned, leaning on him heavily, putting her other hand onto his chest as well. Regis felt her double the feed and it amazed him how much she could draw. And he knew that even a minute or two of this would weaken a normal man to the point of fatigue if not sickness. Regis opened the buttons on his overcoat, and slipped her hands underneath to rest on bare skin. Straight away he felt the vitality drain from him even quicker.

"So direct contact does make for a stronger feed." He said, stroking her hair, and feeling the draw begin to taper off.

Her hands slipped, and her head became as lead, practically falling into his lap. Root was groggy and incoherent as Regis carefully laid her down. He passed his hand over her eyes.

"Dulled reaction time." He said, and clicked his fingers next to her ear. "Hardly any response to sound at all. Root, can you hear me?"

She nodded weakly. Regis, curious, checked her feet, and was amazed at what he saw; Perfect, flawless, smooth skin, with even the stitches having seemingly dissolved into thin air.

"My dear lady," he said softly, hearing her wheeze and snore. "We have so much to learn and explore."

"Yes, sleep, my dear." He said, covering her. "Full and content."

An hour or so later, and the night would find the vampire standing at the edge of camp, gazing out into the distance, seeing the great mountains to the north shimmer under the light of the aurora. It was a quiet winter evening, with the only sounds being those of his friends still enjoying fine drink and friendship. The sound of crunching snow told him of the Witcher's approach, followed by the scent of pipe smoke.

"What happened?" the White Wolf asked.

Regis heaved a sigh. "She is a very frustrating woman at times. Did you know she wasn't feeding?"

Geralt shook his head. "No, I didn't. I figured that was something, you know, you and she would work out. I assume you mean her energy feeding, right?"

"Yes. Root has been starving herself for weeks, forcing herself to not draw vitality because she was ashamed of it and didn't want to hurt any of us. Even though I told the silly woman she can't hurt me." Regis said in an exasperated tone, pacing. "And she's learning how to use her powers of influence. Remember that whole bit we spoke of about how it's very hard to say no to her?"

Geralt nodded, handing the vampire a pipe and the smoking blend.

"Well, she's realized she can influence others, even get them to do things they wouldn't otherwise. She did it with Dandelion tonight, got him to let her out of the carriage. And then…"

Regis packed his pipe and stood in silence for a bit, collecting his thoughts. While the white haired warrior waited patiently and quietly, passing him a match. When lit, he drew deeply, and let the spice and pleasing scent fill the air as he exhaled. He turned to his friend.

"She tried to get me to bite her by drawing up the urge to drink." He said, and Geralt was stunned, his eyes widening.

"She has no idea how dangerous that was, Geralt!" Regis exclaimed, but reigned in his frustration, taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You didn't…"

"Of course not!" Regis said, practically spitting venom.

The White Wolf raised his hands in a placating manner.

"I'm…sorry." Regis said. "I haven't been this annoyed by a woman in ages."

Geralt smirked and rolled his eyes. "I know what you mean. Try being around a whole college full of them. With every last one being insanely jealous of the woman on your arm. Oh, the passive aggressive games they play."

Regis smoked and was quiet, reflecting on what had happened, looking at the frozen river.

"She could've healed her wounds almost instantly by drawing from me, Geralt. But instead she chose to deny herself, prolonging the healing and pain. Why would she do that?"

Geralt shrugged. "Who knows why women do things like that; although Root doesn't seem like the attention-getting type. Maybe she didn't know it would heal her? But to be fair, you yourself said it was better to let the wounds heal on their own. As for myself, I appreciate that she didn't draw energy from me without asking, and I'm sure I speak for Dandelion too. I told you before, it's sort of a violation, Regis. But we don't really see eye to eye on that."

The vampire nodded. "I agree; I did say that. And I respect your feelings and thoughts on the matter. Now I think on it maybe that was the better thing for her to do. Although, still…I did tell her she can't hurt me."

"Just because she can't hurt you doesn't necessarily mean she's going to be alright with doing certain things, Regis. She couldn't break your bones either. That doesn't mean she's going to try." The White Wolf said, pulling the cloak around his shoulders.

Regis smiled at his friend and shook his head. "Well, aren't we the sensible one tonight? But in all seriousness, you're right. I hadn't thought of that. And too, I have to remember, we _all_ have to remember, that she is new to her powers. I scared her very badly tonight because I over-reacted to her attempt to have me bite her. I regret it now. Ahh the mistakes I made when I explored my own abilities once upon a time. I guess it's a sign I'm very old that I got cranky with her, eh?"

He laughed quietly to himself and Geralt did too. "Well maybe you old bat. But I've mentioned this before and maybe we both need to drill it into her; Root has to tell us of her needs. She can't be hiding this stuff from us, regardless of her good intentions. I understand she struggles with things. You know better than anyone how much I understand. But these kinds of incidents happen because she doesn't tell us how she feels or what she thinks."

The vampire nodded. "Agreed. We'll work out a time to speak to her about it. For now, thank you. I very much needed a chat, old friend. Let us head back. I'm ready for another round."

As Regis and Geralt walked back to the fire, Vernon and Dandelion were just finishing up another hand of Barrel, with the Commander of the Stripes placing his cards on the table.

"Read em and weep, bard." He said, taking a long pull from a leather stein.

The other soldiers who had been playing had either retired to their tents, or were on watch. And poor Dandelion was left with a single coin on his side of the table.

"Well, fuck. Well played, Vernon." He said, his voice a bit slurred. "Hey, guys. Regis, how's our great werewolf doing?"

Vernon glanced around as a few of his soldiers looked over.

"I think you've had a bit much to drink, master bard." The vampire said casually, seating himself at the make-shift table. "Werewolf indeed. She just hasn't had a proper bath and a shave for a few weeks. No need to be cruel."

And all of them erupted into laughter with the soldiers grinning ear to ear at the joke made at Root's expense. He was certain the men would eventually meet the brown furred, green eyed form that was he and Geralt's mate, but no need to trouble their thoughts about it on such a fine winter evening.

"Match, Vernon?" Regis said, shuffling the deck.

"Bring it." Roche replied.


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

As dawn broke over the world, it would find a quiet camp nestled in the snow alongside the bank of the river that flowed all the way down from Novigrad's bay. It would wind around the Gustfields, flowing south to curl around Oxenfurt, further and further until it joined the mighty waterfall that poured from the Morhen mountains, spilling into the valley where in lie Vizima, and on ever southward through to White Orchard. Hues of pink and shades of lavender brushed the morning sky as first the elves awoke and began their day. Fires crackled to life after burning low all night and soon the area was filled with the scent of smoked sausages, eggs and fresh brewed coffee.

Vernon Roche stood outside his personal tent, a cup of brew in hand, leaning on the post at the door. His thoughts lingered on the forest maiden with pine green eyes. And while he knew his orders were to deliver supplies to and assist the Witcher and his companions, the veteran was not at all displeased, and a not just a little eager, to see her again. And yet as he pondered this, he wondered why. Why, after years of pleasing himself with service women, should he feel an intense desire to be near this wild woman of the woods that he barely knew? Sipping his coffee, he shook his head and set about getting their fire going.

Inside the carriage home, it was wonderfully warm and pleasant, the furs and heavy blankets holding in their body heat as the threesome lay together. Root stirred and nestled deeper into the covers, seeing the sunlight beginning to illuminate the tiny spaces around the flap that was the door. Rolling to her side, she nudged herself right into Regis' embrace and he covered her with his arm, stroking her shoulder. Root's lips kissed the bare skin of his chest, lightly rubbing the tip of her nose against him. But then she paused for a moment, her thoughts returning to the previous evening, and went to move away from him. But he held her, opening his eyes.

"It is done, my lady." He said softly. "Think on it no more. And good morning."

She smiled at him, running a hand through her short brown hair that was an absolute mess. Behind her, she felt Geralt lean up to her back, so that she was literally sandwiched between the two men. The hunter slipped his hand around her hip, up her belly and cupped her soft breast.

"Well, now that we both have your undivided attention, there is something I need to say regarding last night." He said right into her ear. "Are you going to listen?"

"Of course I will, Geralt." She replied, not sure if she should be aroused, nervous, or both.

"It is my understanding that you haven't been feeding from Regis, even though he told you that you could not harm him. That instead, you opted to starve that part of yourself out of shame and fear. Ahh don't interrupt, you said you'd listen." He began, then continued. "I understand why you made that choice. It's something I would do as well. And I'd be wrong to do it. Root, we need you, all of us need you, to communicate your needs, especially when it comes to injuries and feeding. Your concern for my frostbitten, frozen self almost cost you your feet. Those wounds could easily have become infected. Nah, hush, I'm not done. And when our master vampire tells you to feed from him and there is no risk to himself, you need to be doing that."

"Root, you're very new to your power. And we, none of us, know the extent of your abilities." Regis said, holding her hand. "As you awaken to them, it would be wise to seek counsel from those of us experienced with…well, I hate to use this word but, monsters. Chances are you're simliar to something Geralt or myself have encountered and we can help. We want to help you explore this, my dear. Remember, we cherish who and what you are, all parts of you."

Root was quiet for a while; letting what both her mates said resonate with her.

"I just…I just feel like I'm a burden to you so much of the time." She confessed. "Whether it's my ignorance about the world, being hunted by weird elves including the aen elle, having odd experiences with powers I barely understand, then I get injured because I tried to help…I…" she heaved a sigh. "What good am I? Since Geralt found me I've brought little to nothing to our group except to be a pain in the ass to you both. That's how I see it and feel."

"Is it truly?" Regis replied, gazing into her eyes. "As we lay here together, you feel like you're burdening us?"

"Well, no…"

"And doesn't it matter when we tell you that's not true?" Geralt asked, his voice very soft and deep.

"And I can tell you you're wrong about having brought nothing to us, my dear. You've brought such a unique perspective on living to both of us. Geralt especially I'm sure. Your innocence about war and politics is refreshing and welcome. And let's not leave out the very important details of you're homecooking, your skill in making things, your woodland lore, spirit lore and other things. But most important is you yourself. You're a lovable, wonderful being, Root. And we love you." Regis explained.

"Root?" the Witcher said.

"Yes, Geralt?" she replied.

"Stop trying to earn our love."

The woman was silent, but inside her heart was overflowing as more of the doubt and pain was healed. Regis read her thoughts and nodded to the Witcher. Then Geralt kissed her ear while Regis kissed her forehead and she giggled girlishly.

"Besides, I'm really going to need you to start speaking up about needs and wants, and soon." Geralt said sitting up, slipping on a light shirt.

"Why is that?" she asked, rolling onto her back, lying in the warm spot where his body had been.

"Because I'm going to begin training you." He said, and even Regis looked surprised.

"What?" she asked, as both she and the vampire sat up.

Geralt rested his elbows on his knees and nodded.

"It's time you learned a weapon, Root. As we travel, there will be places where you won't want to transform. Out here in the wilds, your wolf form is fine to roam around in. But in cities and towns? Not a good idea. They'll quickly forget about whatever problems they have and move to destroy you." The great hunter explained.

Regis nodded. "He's right, Root. Take it from one who was buried by a mob. That is a fine idea, Geralt."

"It'll be hard work." he continued. "But it'll strengthen you; give you a set of skills to add to those you already have."

"So…do you mean…I'll be a witcher too?" Root asked.

Geralt grinned at her, stroking her soft cheek. "One thing at a time, my green eyed forest spirit. Let's get a blade in your hand and see how you do with that, and we can practice some archery as well. But I need your promise that you'll be clear and honest about your needs. Your body will be sore, it will be exhausting some days, and I will push you hard. If you need to rest, tell me. If you need to feed, tell me and feed as you need. No more hiding. Deal?"

She nodded at him and his golden eyes shimmered. "Good. Now, let's get some breakfast. It sounds like Vernon has been in the pantry."


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

It was a glorious, warm winter day, with the sun riding high in a clear blue sky. Everyone could swear that spring was just around the corner because it was unseasonably pleasant, even though in reality there were still a few weeks of winter remaining. The edge of the river had widened as some of the ice retreated, and the elves put together a few rods in order to increase their catch of fish. After a hearty breakfast, courtesy of Vernon and Dandelion, the Witcher had grabbed his bow and saddled up one of the Temerian draft horses, heading toward the treeline in order to harvest some of the game that he knew would be out on such a fine day, same as them. Regis slung his large linen satchel over his shoulder, mounted Roche's chestnut stallion and rode north, wanting to check for herbs and other salvage at the old garrison, as well as the copse of trees past it where they'd encountered the Navigator.

This left Dandelion and Root working hard at cleaning out the carriage home, tending to the pantry supplies, checking inventory on their foodstuffs and staples, and finally gathering up everyone's laundry and heading down to the open water to wash. Even though there was still snow on the ground, it wasn't packed nearly as tight, with the radiant sun melting it into drifts of sparkling diamonds, and everyone was grateful to be able to move about more easily. Vernon Roche and the soldiers did what they did best; they positioned themselves in strategic places around the perimiter of the camp and kept a watchful eye on the horizon at all times. But there was little need, as the land was quiet and seemed removed from every care in the world. Root stood by the rivers' edge and stretched, breathing in the delightful scent.

"Ahh, Dandelion, is there a better smell in the entire world than soil kissed by the sunlight? I dare say there isn't." she said, gathering up the clothes.

Dandelion squeezed out the last of his shirts and shook it. "Well, personally I can think of a few better smelling things; like say, a woman's rosy pink wetness, but hey, to each their own. Let's get these back and get some lunch going for the guys."

Root blushed and the two shared a quiet laugh. She hoisted the basket of wet garments up onto her hip and headed back.

"I got this." She said, stringing up the clotheline. "You want to start poking around for what we can make?"

"Got it." The bard said and sauntered off.

Dandelion unfolded the marvel that was the gnomish-made, outdoor kitchen setup, with the cabinets opening on hinges to the left and right, and the working table sliding out from beneath the box of the carriage, the legs dropping on well-oiled springs to rest on the ground.

"OK what have we here? Ah a good hunk of aged cheese. That should be perfect with the apples Roche brought. A bit of bread as well. Ahhh, sandwiches! Perfect."

"Good day, master bard." Errol said walking up to the Witchers' camp. "Might I interest you in some of our catch of the day? We've plenty; the fish are really biting."

The elf surprised the bard, for last Dandelion had heard he wasn't exactly thrilled with any of them, let alone to come strolling up with such a warm greeting. When the storyteller turned around, he could tell the elf's manner was somewhat nervous, as if he wasn't exactly sure how to be, but was making an effort. Dandelion gave him a friendly smile.

"Yes, yes of course, Speaker. Thank you. Can we offer you anything in the way of trade? A gift for a gift, so goes the old saying." The bard said, peeling a potato.

"Oh, no, you're too kind." Errol said with a slight bow. "But perhaps you will treat us to your legendary voice and music this evening?"

The bard couldn't hold back a grin when his ego was so enflamed by a compliment.

"Be careful what you wish for, Speaker." Root said, walking over, accepting the basket of fish. "Dandelion's words have a tendency to affect people in strange ways."

The elven man laughed lightly and Root was pleased to see it, his blue eyes very different, filled with life and mirth rather than anger and pain.

"Please call me Errol." He said kindly. "And if I'm not mistaken, this would be what passes for a formal introduction. Strange to say so after the few weeks we've been camped together. I am Errol Dorren Ysengith of the Bald Mountain People, few though we are nowadays."

Root nodded, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Well, you know me already; resident monster that goes by the name of Root. I'm sure Dandelion needs no introduction, as Geralt and Regis assure me he's famous."

"Indeed he is. Even among the aen seidhe, the music of the master is known. It is my honor to meet you both." Errol said.

"You humble me, Errol." The bard said, inclining his head.

"And I," said the vampire as he walked up, his satchel laden with roots and herbs. "am Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy. Might I say it's nice to see you here on much better terms; and that is meant sincerely, not as a snipe."

The elf nodded. "Truly you are correct, and I am glad of it myself. Nice to meet you, erm…Emiel Regis…"

"Regis is fine." He replied with a nod. "Geralt is not back yet?"

"No, the Witcher is still on the hunt it would seem." Errol replied. "Excuse me. Till later."

Dandelion grabbed a carrot and started peeling more vegetables for the fish soup he planned on making for their dinner.

"I started on some cheese sandwiches for lunch. Help your…oww…aww dang it. That's gonna sting."

The scent of Dandelion's blood filled Regis' sensitive nose, but of course he was unconcerned with it. However, his attention immediately shifted to Root and both men looked to her, with the bard remembering the last time he and blood had been the topic of conversation.

"Oh, Dandelion, are you alright?" she asked, coming over. "Here."

Root took a clean flour sack towel, wet it, and pressed it to the raw, bleeding flap of skin that he'd cut with the peeling blade. Both men just stood there gawking.

"It's just a little cut. Looks worse than it is." She said, noticing him staring. "What?"

"Root, how…how are you doing that?" Regis asked, gazing at her with fascination in his dark eyes.

"What am I doing? Something bad?" she said. "I did something bad again didn't I?"

"No, no." Regis said, glancing at Dandelion. "Something…amazing."

Dandelion wrapped the towel around his thumb and applied pressure. It was then she noticed the bard's blood on her own hands. But to Regis' astonishment, she just poured clean water over her fingers from their jug and wiped them dry with a fresh towel.

"What's amazing?" she asked "You're both looking very odd staring at me like that you know."

"I'll uhh, I'll keep on prepping the soup." Dandelion said with a smile.

"Walk with me, Root." Regis said softly, lacing her arm in his.

Root tossed the towel over her shoulder and followed Regis' lead down to the rivers' edge as the midday sun poured its light over them, making the water sparkle. Some way down the shore, the elves were bringing in their lines and nets, each of them laden with fish, plenty to stock their larder with for days if not weeks to come. And over at the elven camp, the smell of fry bread wafted into the air along with the distinct, sweet smell of maple syrup and butter. It reminded Root of her father, and the wonderful aroma that would fill their homestead whenenver the old werewolf had decided to cook. And yet as wonderful as the memories and present moment were, Root was nervous, for she felt she'd done something wrong. Her vampire love turned to her, and holding her hands in his, he gazed into her green eyes with nothing but admiration.

"How?" he asked her. "How did you manage that?"

"I don't understand." She said. "I just wanted to help is all."

"Yes, of course. My dear, sweet Root, you've done nothing wrong. You did everything…perfectly. I am…I am in awe of you right now."

"What? Why?" she replied, and it stunned the vampire that the woman truly had no idea what he was talking about.

"Never in all my years have I seen someone as new to the drink as you are ignore it completely. You didn't even look at it for a second with desire. That takes years, centuries, for many of us to manage. How did you do it?" he asked.

"Oh." She replied, looking down at her feet, her skin flushing. "Well, I…I just decided that…well…

The vampire smiled and touched her cheek. "I am open to whatever you have to say, my dear. Tell me."

"Well, I've thought a lot today about what you and Geralt said about feeding and hiding things. And I've made up my mind that I would abstain from all energies of all kinds save for yours alone. I know now I cannot be like you and give it up completely. I was going to tell you I just didn't get a chance yet."

Regis cocked his head. "Is that why you stopped feeding? Because you wanted to imitate my complete abstinence?"

"Partly, yes. But also because I feel guilty having to feed. I wish I had your strength, my love."

"So you just decided you would never drink anothers' blood or energy and…that's it? No reaction to Dandelion's cut at all? Not even a slight desire?" he asked her.

"I guess." She said, looking up at him. "Is that bad?"

"Bad?!" he exclaimed. "Goodness no! That's amazing! Root, it takes years and years for those of us who abstain to master the thirst. And you just…decided you'd not have it and it's done. I…I cannot even fathom what that is like. It is I who stand in awe of your strength!"

Root blushed and shyly looked down at her feet. "Well, to be fair, I have plenty of other weaknesses; easily distracted being a major one, as you well know."

Regis laughed quietly, knowing how true indeed that was and how sweet and adorable he found it.

"Yes, true enough. But let me explain this, because it's important that you know. Your vampiric nature is not like mine, Root. From what I can tell, you need to feed on energy. You used to do it unconsciously, thus keeping yourself fed and nourished without having to try. Now that you know, consciously that is, your body needs help in learning and we're working on that. But you cannot abstain like I can. Remember, blood is to me like alcohol, not a food source. Energy, a beings' vitality, is to you a food source. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes. And I realize that if you're not around, and I need to feed, I will have to make exceptions. I wish I had more control over how much I consume."

"How does it feel to you when you begin to feed?" he asked.

Root reflected for a moment, and then answered.

"Like I've opened a dam and the energy just comes rushing in. And it doesn't stop until I'm full to the point of bursting. At which point I'm, well you've seen, so exhausted that I cannot stay awake. That can't be good. Like Geralt said about shifting in a town, I'm sure feeding like that isn't going to be helpful when we're in a community around other people."

Emiel Regis smiled and nodded his head, so proud that Root had quickly internalized he and Geralt's points about feeding, hiding, and training.

"Very true. And we'll work on it together. And also, well perhaps you'll want to ask Geralt and Dandelion about this…" Regis began, but paused.

"About what?" Root asked, seeing the great hunter returning to the camp. "Ah, he's back."

Regis looked over and saw the Witcher dismount the heavy horse that was carrying a doe carcass on its rump and pulling a canvas sled that had another two deer on it. They would have meat for weeks, as well as bone and sinew to make new tools.

"He's going to need help butchering that. Let's us return. Just remember to ask him and Dandelion their thoughts about you feeding from them. I will say only this; neither of them is very keen on it. But it's only fair they explain it themselves. I'm very proud of you, Root."

The woman smiled and kissed his lips, lingering on them for a while, adoring him. She then hurried to the carriage, grabbed a skinning knife from the storage and rolled up her sleeves.

"Hi, Geralt." She said walking over to where he was kneeling. "You want me to start on the next one?"

The White Wolf deftly slipped the blade under the pelt, edging it away from the flesh and bone, having already gutted them in the field.

He looked up, and then looked at Regis who'd joined the bard near the fire, helping with the soup. There was blood everywhere, all over his arms, on the canvas that held the deer corpses and on the horse that'd carried the smallest of the kills. It reminded him of the first night she'd awakened, when he'd brought a deer back to the camp and had begun dressing it.

"Sure." He said. "Are you…sure that's going to be…"

"It's great." She replied, giving him a wink. "I don't mind at all. Just like back home."

Geralt was impressed, resuming his work, watching the woman expertly skin off the pelt and then begin the process of harvesting all the usable parts from the animal. Not a single edible organ was wasted, with each of her cuts being performed as if by a master butcher. The White Wolf admired her, for he knew his Yennefer would never dirty her hands with such a bloody task. No, the great sorceress could devestate others with magic and politiking, but when it came to heavy labor she wasn't exactly up to it. Preferring that others do such work for her, while she reclined with ease in a hot tub of lilac and gooseberry scented bubbles, sipping apple juice. And yet Geralt was equally sure that Root wouldn't refuse such a luxurious bath herself if she could get it.

"Hey, Wolf." Vernon said, walking up to the both of them. "Nice game. I got this last one."

With the three of them working together, Geralt, Root and Vernon had each of the deer skinned and butchered within a few hours, with the meat filling the ice chest of the undercarriage almost to the point of being unable to close. The forest maiden stood, her hands covered in gore, and wiped her forearm across her brow.

"Don't wash up in the river." Geralt said. "We don't want to attract anything. I'm already nervous about bears or wolves following my trail back here but nothing could be done about that."

Root nodded and turned on the spout holding their water supply, rinsing her hands and scrubbing the blood from under her fingernails. Regis was again by her side, astonished.

"I can hardly believe my eyes. I'm so proud." He said, handing her a towel.

She beamed at him, leaned forward and gently rubbed her nose on his.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

As the sun began to sink into the sky, the entire company gathered together and feasted on a pot of fish soup, venison steaks with mashed potatoes, fry bread with maple syrup and butter, hot coffee and for Emiel Regis, a pot of wintermint tea. After such a beautiful day, and a filling meal, the elves struck up a bit of music and began a dance as the first of the stars began to twinkle into the darkening sky. The master bard himself was playing along with them as Valonna and Errol led the merry band in a circle about the fire, while others pounded on drums or whistled away on pipes. Root sat on the side, watching and clapping her hands in time with the drums.

Vernon leaned on the pole of his tent, admiring the way the firelight danced across Root's skin, her innocent smile at the simple joys of life, and it cheered him to see her so happy. And too he felt such a desire to be near her, and yet he held himself back. He was aware, of course, of her relationship to Geralt and Regis. And he'd long reflected on what the vampire had told him about the open nature of their love. And Roche knew it had offended him at first. But upon longer reflection he realized it was because he didn't know of any other way to be.

"Don't think I don't see you." Geralt said, walking up and elbowing his friend, handing him a pipe. "What's on your mind, Roche?"

The soldier packed the pipe with the aromatic smoking blend and exhaled. The scent of anise and bourbon wafting into the cool, winter air as it burned.

"Damn. Emiel makes this stuff? The man is a wonder." Vernon replied, nodding to Root as she began to dance with little Cera.

"I can see why you love her, Wolf." He said, turning his head in admiration. "I have to say, it's very hard not to fall for a lady like that. She's, well, womanly, domestic if you will, but happily so; not like so many of the unhappy women I've met. And also girlish in that sweet way she has about her. She can defend herself, at least in wolf form. And then today she was elbow deep in a doe's chest cavity harvesting organs, blood, bones and meat without so much as a single squeal of disgust. Not too many women I've met are like that."

The Witcher raised an eyebrow, giving the veteran soldier a glance. "You're practically married to your liege and country, Vernon. Are you telling me the wild wolf woman of the woods has worked her way into your heart too?"

"Does that bother you?" Vernon asked, looking over to his friend.

The Witcher shook his head. "No. I'm not her lord and master. Root does what Root wants with whom she likes."

"Who is whose lord and master?" Regis asked, joining them, having just finished carving another pipe out of bone.

"Between the two of you I'd say it's you, Emiel, that is Root's master." Vernon replied with a grin.

"Erm, no. Her primary to be sure, but never her master." Regis replied.

"I jest, sir. No offense." Roche said with a nod.

"Oh my, none taken, Vernon."

"So, Roche, what's your plan? If you have one. Surely you're not going to join us in our travels just to be around Root." Geralt said, and Regis' eyebrow went up.

"Ahhh so that's what this is about. Well, I knew the day you left us, Vernon. I must confess I thought it'd be longer before we saw you again. But none of us is unhappy about your more prompt return." Regis replied.

Roche watched Root twirl about the fire like a spirit out of some myth. As the drums pounded, her bare feet thumped the earth in time…drum, thump, tum tum, turn, thump and kick…and as she turned, her green eyes found his pale blues across the way, making her pause. Time seemed to slow as forest maiden and commander admired each other, the woman feeling her toes curl. She smiled shyly, gave a slight nod and then joined the circle again for another round about the fire. Geralt and Regis exchanged looks, seeing their friend absolutely mesmerized by the dancing figure.

"I can't stop thinking about her." He said quietly, drawing on the pipe. "And no, I cannot abandon my duties, Wolf. You know that. But…I'd hoped, maybe…ah never mind."

"You would like to bring her back to Vizima?" Regis asked.

Vernon glanced at him and sighed heavily. "I've thought about it, yeah. That's nuts though isn't it? I barely know her and…I don't know. She probably wouldn't go for that anyways right? I'm probably just needing a good fuck. Not that I'd ever…"

"We know, Vernon." Geralt said, rolling his eyes. "You'd never hurt her. Though she might oblige you if you ask. Dandelion would like to bed her too, but he's never asked. But then she's never really given him a look like she just gave you. Well, except when she was high."

"What?" Roche asked, turning to the Witcher.

"Yes, that was my doing. Remember how she was limping when you arrived the other night? Well, she and Geralt had gone on a rescue mission and she came back with terrible wounds on her feet, and Geralt with frostbite. Errol over there nearly lost some fingers and toes. As you can see they're all fine now. But one way for her to cope with the pain of her injuries was to ingest a decoction of redcoat caps." Regis explained.

"Ahh, yes. The men use that in the field to deal with stress and injuries when the medic or mage isn't available to aid them right away. Interesting experiences abound while under that plants influence." Roche said.

"As for her living in Vizima," Regis continued. "It's very unlikely, Vernon. Root needs the wilds like the wolf needs the woods. One day I hope to bring her home to my residence in Dillingen, but it's far more likely we'll be living in the summer cottage most of the time. A place Geralt remembers well I'm sure."

"Memories of moonshine." The White Wolf said with a chuckle. "And a lanky, middle-aged man hiding out in an ancient graveyard looking like, what did someone say? Oh yes, looking like a tax collector and smelling of soap."

"Apothocary, I believe Zoltan said. But yes." The vampire said with a grin, fondly recalling his meeting the Witcher, Dandelion and the dwarf Zoltan Chivey.

"So, anyways, ask her." Geralt said, nudging Vernon's shoulder. "You know how to woo a woman, Roche. If she's not interested she'll tell you."

"If…I may interject a bit of caution, my good sirs." Regis said. "I certainly don't want to wreck a moment here but, there is one concern we should consider. I'm perfectly content with Root having relations with you, Vernon. However…"

Geralt nodded. "Ah right, of course. I forget about that. Yeah, that could be a problem."

"What could be?" Roche asked, opening a bottle of mead and pouring it into a stein.

"Erm… how can I put this without it sounding weird? Well, there's nothing for it, it's going to just be weird. Ahhh, Geralt and I cannot get Root pregnant." Regis said. "I'm sure you know why a witcher can't and, forgive me, I've no wish to explain to you how I would not get her pregnant either. That said, I'm very sure you, or Dandelion for that matter, could. And quite honestly, and if I may be so bold, Root is not ready for such a task. Nor may she ever be. And I happen to know, via connection to her deep, subconscious thoughts, that she does not desire a child. At least not at this time. Should an unwanted pregnancy happen, we'd have to consider…"

"OK, I got it, I got it, Emiel. Well, no wonder she doesn't flirt with Dandelion. Good woman not to lead him on." Vernon said with a long sigh. "Yeah, I know. You're right, that's probably not a good idea. I mean brothel women can just visit an apothocary and be done with it in a few days, although I understand it's a rough ordeal. But Root doesn't deserve to go through that for a night or two of pleasure. She probably doesn't even think of me that way."

"Oh, don't be too sure of that." Regis said quietly.

Roche grinned ear to ear. "Really?"

"Listen to us! You'd think we were a bunch of sixteen year old lads just off the farm visiting our first city." Geralt said with a chuckle. "Vernon, just don't fuck her. Trust me; she enjoys lots of other things. If she wants you, she'll let you know. Just…let her know that you're open to it. See how she responds."

"A word of warning though, my good man." Regis said. "Root can be…um, very hard to say no to. If she asks you to, well…let's just say you could be in for a struggle. I doubt she would ask but in the heat of the moment, one never knows."

Vernon glanced between the two men. "And you two really don't mind if I just have a chat with your woman and make her come in a variety of ways until she passes out? Really that's…totally fine?"

"We don't own her, Roche." Regis replied. "She's not our property. Root will decide if she wants you or not. If she does, who are we to argue? Yennefer allows Geralt sexual freedom too. It's not as unusual as you might think."

The men finished their conversation just as the elves finished up their dance and Root came over to the carriage to get a drink. The three watched her, each of them feeling a variety of emotions toward the woman who held their hearts.

Dandelion seated himself upon a raised seat that Valonna had brought out so that everyone in the camp could see him illuminated by the flames. The elves settled around the fire, the children quieted, and the witcher, soldier and vampire joined their lady as she returned to the elven camp. Root leaned against Regis' chest, her head resting on his shoulder, while Vernon and Geralt stood near as the bard began to sing of ancient days, of elven valleys strewn with flowers and forest temples wreathed in the living green of the earth.


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

A few hours later would find the witcher's company gathered around their own fire, the men passing around a bottle of dwarven scotch, with Root declining the drink; preferring instead to heat tin cups of mead over the fire with a stick of cinnamon. Dandelion strummed his lute, tuning the fine instrument.

"What a lovely day today." Root remarked happily, sighing as the honey wine sweetened her tongue. "I'm so eager for spring to come, and to continue our journey. Will we still see Oxenfurt, Geralt?"

The Witcher took a long pull from the bottle and handed it off to Vernon.

"Yes, that is still the plan. We are in no need of supplies, especially since his majesty has graciously sent Roche here with enough to feed and water a small battalion. Do thank you him for us when you return, Vernon. However, I think we'll be adding another stop on the way." Geralt replied, pulling a short blade from his boot and grabbing a spare bit of wood.

"Oh?" Emiel Regis said, accepting the scotch. "Where would that be, oh fearless leader? My but the dwarves make excellent booze. Not a match for that which is brewed in my still but…anyways. Where to?"

"To Kaer Morhen." The Witcher replied, tossing the wood shavings into the fire, the hungry coals devouring them with a spark and fizzle.

"The great stronghold in the Kaedweni mountains north of here?" Roche asked. "I hear that valley is haunted. People go missing there."

Geralt gave Roche an amused look with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, that's what many superstitious people believe." The White Wolf replied. "They also say witchers steal and eat babies, roasting those they don't train over huge pits."

"I didn't say I thought that." Roche said, giving his friend a shove. "Pass the bottle, bard. Come on then. So, why there, Wolf?"

The Witcher looked over to Root who very much enjoyed the banter between the men of her company.

"Because I'm going to train Root in some of the ways of the Wolf School. It's only fitting after all." He said, lowering his voice so the other soldiers didn't hear. "And Vesemir will want to meet her."

"Is he your teacher, Geralt?" Root asked, curious and excited about beginning the exercises.

The Witcher nodded. "Yes. Vesemir is the greatest and eldest of our school. He's the toughest bastard you'd ever want to fight and yet has the heart of a grandfather; old, tempered, wise, cautious…perhaps a bit too much so. He's going to be pissed but, I still owe him the respect of telling him who I'm passing the learnings onto."

Regis was practically glowing he was so happy to hear the news. "Fantastic! To lay eyes on the castle of Kaer Morhen itself! Of course, I've known about it but never have gone there myself. For obvious reasons. No, no I don't fear your Vesemir or any other witcher that may be there, but no reason to poke around where I know I'm definitely not wanted."

"In all honesty, Regis, you may have reason to fear Vesemir." Geralt said solemnly. "I know you're ancient, old friend. Powerful. And I know the risks of taking on a high one, as all witchers do. I told you once; no one could pay me enough to fight one of your kind. But Ves? He might do it of his own accord just as a matter of principle. I would caution you strongly to maintain as human a façade as possible while there."

The old vampire nodded. "I appreciate the knowledge, Geralt. Thank you. But what about, Root? What about her façade?"

The White Wolf shook his head and tossed the wood bit into the fire, flipped the blade deftly in his hand, and sheathed it in his boot.

"He'll know straight away. No way to hide the werewolf." Geralt said with a smile. "Don't worry, Root, you'll be with me. Vesemir and I go way back and while he will be pissed, I know he'll come around. He's stubborn, but wise. And you have a way of working your way into peoples' hearts."

Dandelion quickly glanced over to Roche but made sure Root didn't notice.

"So, Root, we never did get to ask you something." The bard began. "Can you tell us what happened between you and Arklan?"

The men all turned to the forest maiden, who looked down at the ground, remembering the grim scene that played out in the palace dungeon. Root thought of her elegant and powerful Emiel Regis as he mastered the mages' mind, forcing him to answer for what he had done and how. And Geralt, silent and protective, who had smashed Arklan's jaw with his gloved fist, paying him back for at least some of the terrible wrongs he'd committed. The wise and calm King Foltest, who listened to everything with a guarded expression, patient and open to learning. And Vernon Roche, whom the werewolf didn't think she'd ever see again, standing in the shadowy darkness, arms crossed, face unreadable, but pleased that justice was being served. Holding her cup of hot mead, she sipped, closed her eyes for a moment, and took a breath.

"It's…hard to explain." She began, unsure of what they'd make of what she was about to reveal. "Arklan…wanted to die."

They all exchanged looks silently, with the fire crackling and sending sparks into the night sky above.

"How did you know, my dear?" Regis inquired.

Root was silent for a bit, reflecting. "I just…knew. He was…hurting inside. Something was…eating him, consuming him, driving him and…he didn't know how to escape. How to stop the hurt."

"Like a disease?" Dandelion asked, somewhat horrifed by the description.

Root looked up, and her dark green eyes were hazy and distant. Regis and Geralt both watched her carefully.

"Yes, taedh Dandelion. The disease of jealousy." she replied, her voice distinctly different, deeper, and more masculine.

The Witcher and the vampire both recognized the signs of trance, with Regis motioning for the bard and Roche to remain silent.

"So I healed him." She continued, her eyes closing. "Gave him what he wanted. Death. Which is mine to give."

"Who are you?" Regis asked.

Root turned toward Regis' voice, her eyes still closed.

"Ahhh, the ancient one who loves this woman. It has not been an easy task to hide from you, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy. I respect your dedication to this vessel. She does so love you, vampire." The voice spoke. "As for myself, I am the Master of Death; I am the grave that receives, and the soil that buries you. I am the worm consuming your flesh, the beetle that cleans your bones. I am the kiss that silences your breath, and the hand that closes your eyes in eternal slumber. I am he who dwells in the deep woods; the plants are my garments, the earth my cloak. Bark skinned, antlered, skull faced. My children feed you, and the wolves are my servants. As this wolf is my servant. You know me, Geralt, known in hen ilinge as Gwynbleidd. I am the leshan of the ancient woods of her home, the god she prays to, sacrifices to, and who hears her."

Geralt's eyes widened and it took all his strength not to reach for his silver sword, but his eyes glanced at it. The leshan laughed slowly, darkly, a terrible voice coming from Root's body.

"Will you so quickly cut her down? You will indeed dismiss me, but you'll kill the woman you love as well. Be not troubled, White Wolf. This beast, daughter of Curamil, ulfhedinn of Skellige, has served me well, as her father and grandfather before her did. Now that you know, I release her body to be her own. I would not rest until the vile elves who hunted her were dead. You have my gratitude for destroying Falithe."

"Why so kindly, if I may ask, venerable one?" Regis inquired with a tone of respect. "Surely Arklan deserved worse than a kiss and farewell?"

The leshan turned back to Regis and smiled through Root. "Truly he did. That was Selithlene's request. I would kill him, but she decided how. I am not, as some believe, an unreasonable master. Nor am I unjustly cruel. Arklan had bound himself to an entity that was consuming him, and did so for foolish reasons. I pitied him and so did she. But it is time I go, for the vessel you call Root tires from this possession."

"May I ask one more question?" the vampire dared. "Who is, or was, Selithlene? Is Root named for this person?"

"Yes." The leshan said, the voice growing distant. "That was her mothers' name. Curamil didn't dare use it, lest the Hunt find them more quickly. In her mothers' tongue it means, "earth moon". "Va'fail, companions of my chosen. I return her to you."

All were silent as Root opened her eyes and looked around the fire. She was fully aware of what had happened, and silently offered a prayer to the leshan that had long been the recpient of her offerings and devotions.

"So…that's what happened." She said quietly. "I…I uh didn't expect that. But, at least now I know why Arklan called me Selithlene. Forgive me, gentleman, but I would like to be alone for a bit."

The woman rose, wrapped her green wool cloak about her shoulders, drew up the hood, and walked toward the riverbank. Regis kept her in sight, but looked to all of his companions.

"Were we…was that…" Dandelion said with a trembling voice, the vampire noticing that his face had gone pure white with fear.

"It was, master bard." Regis said softly. "One the most ancient beings of this world, a force of death itself, and the true Master of the Hunt, just spoke to us. Geralt, you can stop clenching your fists now. He's gone."

The Witcher slowly relaxed his hands, feeling a twinge of pain as the blood rushed back into them, having gone numb from the effort of keeping them from grabbing his blades. He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking down.

"We are so wrong about so many things." Vernon said quietly, gazing into the fire. "Werewolves, vampires, other worlds, elves, and even leshan it would seem."

Regis smiled and rose, tossing another log onto the fire. "Just misguided. We, all of us, learn as the years go by."

The vampire had that patronzing tone in his voice that Geralt hated, but at least Regis included himself in the last statement.

"The real question is, will we learn from this information and our experiences? Or will we continue to make the same mistakes?" Regis said, putting on a kettle of water.

"Some monsters still need killing, Regis." Geralt said with a growl of annoyance. "Not all of them are like you, Root or even this leshan. Let us not forget the drowner attack, and the werewolf that attacked Errol's people."

"Geralt," Regis said softly, giving the hunter a stern look. "I have raised my hand against some of my own to defend those I'd chosen to live among. Please do not insult me further, old friend."

The Witcher nodded. "I'm sorry. Forgive me."

"Vernon has a point though." Dandelion said. "All the books about monsters and other such beings are filled with misinformation, if not outright lies, to say nothing of the oral myths of many people. I mean, you yourself Regis spent an entire evening popping myths about vampires or we'd still be clueless about that."

"And that, master bard, is all we can do. Seek, learn and pass on that learning when we can. Be willing to be wrong and you'll find the whole world becomes a place of wonder and magic rather than one of dogmas and ungrounded certainties that are created so fearful souls can sleep better at night."

"Will she be alright?" Vernon asked, seeing the woman wander along the shore.

"Root? Oh goodness, she's more than fine. That was her god after all. She's just a little embarressed about having that experience in front of others." Regis said, dropping flower petals and a sprig of evergreen into the boiling water. "And I wager it was quite moving for her to discover her mothers' name. And well, her name too it would seem."

"Well, I'm not calling her that." Dandelion said rising and stretching. "She'll always be Root to me. Or Roo. I'm hungry. You guys hungry? I'm gonna get something to eat. Can I nick one of those apples, Vern?"

"Help yourself, my man." Roche said, corking the bottle they'd been sharing.

Regis glanced over at Geralt as the witcher rose and walked off into the darkness, taking his blades with him. He knew the warrior was struggling with his own nature, questioning himself and his purpose once again. Something the vampire had watched him do many times, hearing him out and sometimes aruging over it. Werewolves were one thing, higher vampires quite another. But a leshan? Those were beings who definitely posed a threat to most that came near them. Territorial, fierce, stealthy, able to call upon plants and animals to serve them, powerful, able to kill with but a touch, a leshan was no mere monster. They were legends. And to some…gods.

The wild woman wandered along the shore of the river, enjoying the quiet stillness. The unfrozen water lapped at the shore, but it was only a matter of time before the temperatures would plummet and ice would again creep closer to the bank. Root's thoughts lingered on the story her father had told her concerning the death of her mother. He'd always told her that Selithlene died giving birth, and that such wasn't her fault. But the werewolf knew better, knew that was a story told to a young girl so she wouldn't spend nights crying over the mother she didn't get to have.

"Of course it was my fault." She whispered, sniffing and wiping her eyes. "Oh, mother, why didn't you feed from father to heal?"

And yet with that very thought, Root realized that Selithlene perhaps didn't feed from her mate for much the same reason that she herself didn't wish to draw energy from Regis and Geralt. Because she feared it would hurt them. It made the werewolf smile, for although she couldn't know the truth of what she'd just considered, she hoped that maybe she had that in common with the woman she never knew, but whose name she bore.

Sensing the Witcher walking up behind her, Root turned, and Geralt was pained by the look of fear in her eyes as she looked him up and down, trembling. He felt like shit. She looked at the blades on his back, and he felt even worse. She took a step back and it nearly broke him.

"Geralt, you…were you really going to…"

"No, Root." He said, his voice barely a whisper.

"But you…I saw your look…"

"Instinct." The Witcher replied, opening his arms. "Come here."

She flew into his embrace and the White Wolf clutched the woman he loved to his strong chest.

"I could never bring myself to harm you." He said, running his fingers through her short hair. "A leshan is a powerful monst…erm…entity. I was concerned for your safety. And ours."

"I understand." Root replied, holding onto her mate. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about it. It's just…such a private, intimate connection. But he's gone now. He wanted you to know and was waiting for the right time to reveal himself. Which it would seem would've been sooner but for a certain fire having a certain affect on me."

The Witcher shook with quiet laughter, and put his hands on her shoulders, gazing at her with his lovely golden eyes.

"You are very easy to distract indeed." Geralt said playfully. "Here. Humor me."

Geralt slipped the steel sword from its sheath, flipped it and extended the pommel and grip to the woman. Root looked up at him and he nodded.

"Go on. Feel the weight." He said, letting it go into her hands.

Root was surprised by how light it was. She fully expected such a lengthy blade to be nigh impossible to lift, and yet the Witchers' blade only felt weighty where the cross-guard and grip were, the blade itself being almost weightless. Geralt circled behind, widened her stance with his feet and reached around, placing his hands over hers.

"This is technically a single-handed blade, but it can be used two-handed for a stronger style of fighting if need be. If you grip the handle with both hands…one on top of the other, yes like that, you can put more power into your swing or thrust." He said and guided her through a slow arc up and diagonal slash downward. "And lean your body into the swing. Don't be rigid in your stance, but fluid. Move with your foe. We call this sword dancing."

Geralt stepped back and circled to the front. Root gripped the blade, raised it up to the right, and then slashed downards to the left. The Witcher nodded.

"Good. Now, on the downward swing, if your foe blocked it, they most likely will attempt to riposte. So always have your blade level so you can quickly bring it up to deflect and parry. Don't worry about remembering this stuff right now. One day it'll be part of your nature."

"Indeed." Roche said, striding up to the couple, Temerian steel slipping from the scabbard. "En garde, mi'lady."

Geralt glanced at his friend and to Root, while Dandelion and Regis walked up and watched. The veteran's eyes were playful and the woman felt her skin tingle.

"Vernon, I…"

The soldier let his blade kiss the steel she held before her, running it down the point, crossing mid-way. Root leaned into her stance and pushed him away, tapping the point as he parried lightly.

"Very good." Geralt approved. "Move with him. Remember, Roche is your enemy, not his blade. Watch him, not the weapon."

Root focused on the warrior, looking right into his eyes and she noticed that he betrayed nothing. So when he lunged at her, she panicked, shrieked and landed on her backside in the snow, dropping the sword. Roche held her at point and grinned, but his eyes were not mocking. Sheathing the blade, Vernon extended his hand and helped her up. Geralt wiped the steel with a cloth and resheathed it.

"You're very good with your blade, Vernon Roche." Root said, turning her green eyes onto him. "What else are you good at?"

Root leaned close to the soldier, who remained absolutely still, his blue eyes instantly becoming guarded. Geralt and Regis exchanged glances and Dandelion shook his head, wishing that she would look at him that way just once. The wild woman felt cold steel kiss her wrist and gasped.

"That would've cost you your life." Vernon said, smirking. "I'd have opened your veins in that moment and you'd be bleeding out. Were you trying to seduce me?"

The woman blushed. "I'm…trying out new things. Yes. I still have a lot to learn."

"You would've suceeded." He said. "But for the fact that you stopped looking where my hands were. As Geralt said, your enemy is the target you need to focus on."

"We'll try a variety of techiniques, weapons and styles." The Witcher said. "You may take to one more readily than others. But for now it's late and we all could use a good nights sleep after all the hard work we did. Roche, can the guards manage the watch tonight?"

"That's why we're here, Wolf. See you in the morning." Vernon replied and stepped close to Root while Regis, Geralt and the bard returned to camp.

"Root? A moment please?" he said quietly, daring to take her hand. "Would you do me the pleasure of answering a question for me?"

"Of course, Vernon." She said, trying to hide the trembling in her voice.

"Have I…could I ever…That is, would you consider…"

She touched a finger to his lips, and then traced the curve of them, her hands gliding down to his chest as she leaned forward. "Please just kiss me, Vernon."

"Yes, ma'am." He whispered and tasted the sweet flesh of her mouth, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her close.

They explored each other for a while, with Root's hands sliding up around his neck, carressing his shoulders. Roche sighed, resting his forehead against hers.

"You taste so good." He whispered to her. "So pure. Oh, my lady, how many nights I thought of you; longing for your lips."

Root felt pleasure knot deep within and a tingle shot through her body, making her perky and aroused. A soft moan escaped her and the soldier smiled.

"My tent is warmer." He said, his blue eyes meeting her gaze, asking permission. "May I, lovely woman of the woods?"


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

"Man, just once I wish she'd look at me the way she looks at…well everyone else." Dandelion said, quietly sulking by the fire.

Geralt was asleep so it was just old Regis and the bard sitting quietly at camp, the vampire reading a book and enjoying a pot of tea, while Dandelion played around with composing new songs or melodies. Regis looked up and was slightly amused by the pout on the young man's face. He knew Root wasn't attracted to the bard at all, even as she was fine with him flirting with her. But Roche was right, she had never made any motion or comment that could lead the bard to believe more was to be had with her. And for poor Dandelion, it probably did suck knowing that the charmer of Novigrad's female population was never going to get into bed with the woman from the southern woodland realm.

"Well, to be fair, master bard, she doesn't look at everyone that way. You make her sound like some sort of common street worker when you say it like that." Regis said.

He sighed. "I know. Yeah, I'm sorry, man. She's just…so…You don't think…well nah never mind."

Regis poured another cup of tea. "Go on."

The bard glanced at Roche's tent and lowered his voice.

"You don't think it's because she's a vampire that people fall for her do you?" Dandelion asked.

Emiel Regis paused, raised an eyebrow at the comment, tilted his head and finished pouring. When he'd set the kettle back onto the grate over the fire, he sipped and gazed back at the bard.

"Yes. That is entirely possible. The allure of a vampiric entity can be very, very strong; as we saw with Arklan aen Caem. Are you asking me this because you're curious? Or are you trying to assuage your frustration over her not being attracted to you by chalking up other peoples' attraction to her as something disingenuous, something she manufactuered?"

The vampire's reply bit hard, and Dandelion was rendered speechless, his mouth opening but no reply formulating in his mind would come out.

"What a horrid thing to insinuate about our dear friend. Not to mention it makes fools out of myself and Geralt." Regis said shaking his head.

"But…look what she did to me!" he managed to burst out, causing some of the elves to look over.

The bard lowered his tone and looked at Regis with a fierce intensity in his eyes.

"She has that power though doesn't she? So it's possible, right?"

Regis' voice was very soft when he replied. "Dandelion, I am her sire and holder of her mind, body and soul. Do you honestly think she could use her abilities on me like that to such a degree? Do you think I'd allow my best friends in the entire world to be misled by a mischievous nascent vampire just playing with mens' hearts? Yes, it's possible but you know damn well that's not what's going on. You selfish twit, get over it."

Dandelion felt like the man had punched him. He fell silent, staring into the fire with a dozen angry comebacks lurking in his rich, poetic mind with its vast vocabulary. Yet in his heart, he knew Regis was right. He was jealous of what he and Geralt had, and it was burning him up that Vernon was bedding her right at that very moment. The ladies man of the northern kingdoms was used to being able to have any woman he wanted with but a wink and a smile. But never once had the wild wolf woman of the Temerian woodlands given him a clue that more was on the table than friendship.

Regis sighed. "That was too harsh, Dandelion. I took it personally and shouldn't have. I apologize."

"No…don't." the bard said, glancing up. "You're right. I _was_ trying to do what you said. I insulted you, Geralt, Root and Vernon all in one go. Fantastic."

As the two sat for a while, the night sky became alive with the aurora. A brilliant ribbon of shimmering green danced over their heads and the vampire pondered the mysteries of their planet and its sun. After centuries of observing the lights, and how they would appear at regular times, Regis was sure they were not magic, at least not sorcery as understood by the world's mages. While the fire in the sky rippled and made the heavens lovely, their earthly fire snapped and reminded him that the insatiable flames were hungry. He rose and tossed more wood shavings into the coals and a heavy log that would burn for hours.

"My dear friend," Regis said, softening his tone. "Perhaps you do not realize the importance of the connection you _do_ have with Root."

Dandelion looked up. "What do you mean?"

The older man sat back down, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

"When we discovered that the moon no longer held sway over her changes, who leapt up and down in excitement with her, sharing her joy?" he began. "Who wrote a special lullaby for her just because he knew she'd enjoy it? Who helps her in all the domestic duties around camp while Geralt hunts and I gather herbs to keep us healthy and hale? You do, Dandelion. Without complaint. Not once. She adores you, my good man. Just in a different way. You are the best friend she never got to have growing up alone in the woods. I mean, just look at the way she shines when you do magic for her. You bring a light and wonder to her world, Dandelion, that I don't think you've ever realized."

The poet listened quietly.

"I know Geralt has often given you a hard time for being a bit of a blockhead. And quite honestly, you do sometimes put your foot in it. But if I may say so, that is part of your charm, Dandelion. None of us is without fault. Take me. I know that sometimes what I have to say comes off as know-it-all and condescending. But do you know why I comment as I do? Because I've had over four hundred years to make mistakes, sometimes over and over, and then learn from them. I forget to have patience with humanity, and others, who are still making their own. Mistakes that is."

"Yeah, that drives Geralt mental at times." Dandelion said with a snort and soft chuckle.

"Oh, believe me, I know it does. And the White Wolf has his own faults too. Ones he readily admits to and is generally too hard on himself for but still, faults all the same. I know you didn't intend offense when you asked me your question, but I equally knew you were thinking with…well with your cock to put it bluntly. Trust me; I understand the sexual desires of a frisky young man with no woman in sight to bury himself in. I was young once too." Regis explained with a smile and the shadow of memories in his dark eyes.

"Yeah, that's fair enough, Regis but…dang it all, you have someone to bury yourself in. But…thank you. I…I hadn't really thought of it that way before and you're right. Roo and I just…yeah. When we're together its natural and easy, it just flows and…well, I just realized that I don't think of her that way most of the time. It's only when she's not around really, and my mind gets going about it."

Regis nodded. "Exactly. And let's face it. Vernon Roche shows up after weeks of being gone and takes her to his bed. Why him and not you? I can see that being frustrating."

"Yeah well still, she didn't deserve what I said about her. None of you did. I mean…I get it, she could do that. But she's not."

"And make no mistake, master bard. If she were, I would correct her; as I had to the other night when she tried something with me. I over-reacted, much like I did with you just now, but a correction was needed all the same. She has her own vampiric nature, with its own particular powers. But remember, my blood flows in her veins as well and I'm willing to bet that addition kicked her natural abilities up several notches higher than what they normally would be."

Dandelion nodded. "I understand. Thanks, Regis. You're a true friend. I'm sure glad Geralt didn't decide to kill you that night you stitched me up."

The two shared a laugh while Regis poured them each a glass of mead.

"As am I, my good man. As am I."

* * *

Vernon Roche may have been a man of simple values and strict adherance to king and country, but he was a man of comfort as well. Inside the Commander's tent, one might have thought they'd stumbled into one of the smaller rooms of the palace. While heavy furs lined the inside walls of the canvas tent and carpeted the floor for warmth, those were covered with a layer of richly colored, heavy fabrics that served as a second layer of insulation. In the corner, a stubby potbelly stove kept the tent toasty and also had on it a hot plate for cooking. There were large chests, crates and sacks lining two of the four sides, each of them filled with provisions from King Foltest. On another was a simple table and chairs with an oil lantern burning for light, and a plain short table laden with maps of the area, a few spare blades and a tankard. And on the last was his bed, and it was on this luxuriously soft pile of furs, pillows, silks and wool comforters that Root found herself lying next to the Viziman soldier.

"You're so beautiful." He whispered and gently kissed her nose. "Your lips taste like wildflower honey. I could linger on them for days."

She blushed and blinked slowly as he kissed between her eyes, then brushed his mouth against hers.

"You once said that you knew nothing of politics; of kings and devotion to a ruler." Roche said quietly, sliding his hand down her bare shoulder.

Root traced the line of his strong jaw and then ran her fingers through his dark hair, admiring his blue eyes.

"That's right." She replied. "I don't know about those things."

"Then let me show you." He whispered softly. "Let me show you how a man serves a queen."

* * *

A few hours later would find the forest maiden politely excusing herself from the company of Vernon Roche. And while she was well pleased and satisifed, preferring to lie in his arms till morning, Root had felt the beginnings of a headache and wanted to retire to her own bed. The soldier understood and had helped her dress, giving her a kiss before she departed.

"May I know you again sometime, Lady of the Woods?" he asked stroking her cheek.

Root leaned into his palm and kissed him as he leaned forward. She wanted to lose herself in that mouth again, and he sucked gently on her lip.

"Of course." She whispered. "Thank you for understanding, Vernon."

He lifted the flap of the tent and she stepped out into the early hours of deep night. Across from Roche's tent, at her own camp, the fire burned high and hot, illuminating the figure of the Witcher on watch. Geralt turned toward her.

"Regis is in our room. Dandelion's gone to bed. You going to stay up, Root?"

"I'm not sure." She said. "I may return soon. Need some company?"

"It'd be nice. The soldiers don't say much when they're on duty and the elves are pretty quiet tonight. But don't worry about it."

"You know," Root pondered. "I probably should start taking a watch shouldn't I? I mean it's only fair."

The Witcher thought about it. And while a part of him agreed with her, another part of him knew that if the right enemy stumbled upon her and was able to enchant the highly suggestible woman that they'd all most likely be doomed.

"Would it help you feel less like a burden if you did?" he asked, knowing Root struggled with that sentiment.

She nodded. "It would, yes. And few people would attack a camp that was guarded by a giant wolf."

Geralt chuckled. "Yes, that's true. But monsters would; your were-form won't deter many of them. And…there's the other matter too."

Root came and stood beside him, wrapping the green cloak around her shoulders.

"What matter is that?" she asked, warming her hands.

The White Wolf tapped his pendant and she blushed.

"Oh…Well, yes, there's that."

"There are many monsters in this world that have powers of suggestion, including other species of vampires who will sense your nature and Regis' straight away. And while you and Regis are unique among your respective…erm…peoples, you both are exceptions to the rule. Ekimmaras, alps and katakans, while also classifed as higher vampires, are very often not as kindly as our herb scented, aromatic companion who passes for human."

Root was listening to the Witcher and suddenly found that his voice had become very distant and muffled, as if he were speaking to her while she was underwater. There was a rushing sound in her ears and her hands quivered slightly.

"I…understand. And I…oh my…oh Geralt, excuse me but…"

The world seemed to tilt away and she steadied herself on his arm.

"Are you unwell, Root?" he asked, putting his hand to her forehead.

"No, I'm fine." She said, the dizziness lessening. "More tired than I thought perhaps. I'll just head into bed. Good night, White Wolf."

Inside the vampire was reading and smiled when she came in, but he became concerned when he saw her face. Root crawled into bed, cloak and all and curled up into a ball.

"I feel awful." She complained, putting the back of her hand to her forehead. "My head hurts so badly. I don't know what happened."

"Are you hungry? As in do you need to feed?" Regis asked.

"No, no I don't think so. But I can try."

"Did this just start?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I started to feel strange when lying with Vernon. I didn't want to get him sick, that is if I'm coming down with something. Then I was briefly speaking to Geralt and…there was this moment where he was talking to me but it was as if I had cloth in my ears. I couldn't hear him. And my head…ugh, my skull feels like someone is pounding on it. Oh…"

She heaved, but nothing came up. Regis stroked her back, soothing her. Root rolled over when it had passed. He then put his hand on her cheek and noted that she didn't respond to the closeness of his wrist at all; which he found remarkable considering he knew she was beginning to experience acute withdrawal symptoms.

"You amaze me, darling." He whispered to her. "What a wonderful, unique being you are."

Root smiled, extended her hand and he laced his fingers with hers. Closing her eyes, she began to draw energy. And a second later she turned and threw up clear fluid and a little bit of blood.

"Oh my," He whispered softly. "My sweet Root. Try again."

"No…" she said, shaking her head. "I…I can't…I'll be fine. I just need to get some sleep. I must've caught a little cold or something."

Regis sighed and stroked her forehead. Root didn't even realize what she was experiencing, so deeply did she trust in the vampires' guidance to let her drink when she needed to. He knew that she understood what the cravings were; she'd expressed those desires to him. But this experience was not like a craving. This was her body beginning to reject any other form of nourishment that wasn't his blood, even the vitality of another. And he knew that most likely she'd begin rejecting solid food as well, her body choosing to starve itself in order to try and force her to consume what it wanted.

"Alright, my dear." He said softly. "Do you want me to help?"

Root shook her head. "No it's…"

The woman turned and threw up again, heaving and expelling another small puddle of bile. Regis took a cloth and wiped her mouth as she lay back.

"Oh there now, don't worry about it. Try and sleep."

Regis pinched out the candles and turned down the lantern light. He then drew up the covers to her chin and lay down beside her, softly humming Dandelion's lullaby. After a few minutes, Root's body relaxed and she drifted off.

"Dearme, beag beanna." Regis said quietly. "My love."

After another hour had passed, the White Wolf crawled into the back of the carriage when Dandelion woke for his watch. Regis was reading and gave the hunter a nod. Geralt kicked off his boots, stripped off his clothing, save for his briefs, and crawled into bed next to his mate.

"Root looked kinda sick earlier. Did she mention it to you?" Geralt whispered.

"She did." Regis replied. "She's..."

But suddenly Root woke from a deep sleep, heaved and threw up again. And everything she'd eaten the previous day, what was left, and more bile was caught in the cloth that Regis held to her mouth.

"Sit her up, Geralt. There, there you're alright. Oh dear…"

A croaking sound came from her throat as her body tried to vomit up everything in her that wasn't what it wanted.

"Regis…what's…"

But again she heaved, and this time it was pure blood. Her body was rejecting its own fluids.

"Geralt, I have to let her drink. If you don't want to watch, you should leave." Regis said, pausing to let the Witcher decide.

"Is that what this is?!" he said, looking at Root with immense pity as she spit up her own blood again and the vampire caught it in the cloth just in time.

"No…" she croaked, putting her hands up. "I…I can endure it, Regis. I…I don't want to be depen…"

Root wretched again and her whole body shook as stomach acid burned her throat and blood stained her lips.

"Yes." He replied to the Witcher. "Root, these are severe symptoms. Are you telling me the truth? You haven't been hiding this have you?"

"I promise. This is the first time I've felt…this…oh gods…"

"No, I'll stay." Geralt replied.

Regis rolled Root onto her back and gazed into her green eyes.

"You're alright, my dear, look here…just relax." He said softly.

"No, no…" she said turning away from him, which actually made the vampire smile and glance up at Geralt.

"Well, there's a first." He said, rolling up his sleeve.

"I can endure…I can. Let me…try…"

Regis bit his wrist and as soon as Root scented his blood, she lunged like lightning and he winced as she bit him, holding his arm in a vice-like grip. Root growled hungrily as the blood ran into her mouth.

"My goodness! Easy, Root, easy. Calm down….there….slow down…"

Root felt the warm, salty liquid pump into her body, filling her with relief, her mind drifting into a wonderful haze that felt reminiscent of the redcoat decoction only so much stronger. Her eyes slipped closed and she lay quietly, feeding from him with deep, rhythmic pulls of her lips. Geralt looked at the vampire.

"I let her go too long." Regis said softly. "But she has amazed me as well. She had cravings, but not one single withdrawal symptom until tonight. That's astounding considering she hasn't had a feed for a few weeks now. Most newlings have to drink every few days at the start. Once they master the thirst, they can be weaned to go weeks, if not months without drinking before symptoms like this set it. How she manages to have a will of iron when it comes to certain things, and yet with others she may as well have little to no will at all is beyond me."

Root opened her eyes and seeing Geralt beside her, she reached for him. But Regis took her hand before she could touch him.

"No, no Root." Regis said, and held her hand. "From me."

The woman began pulling energy from Regis' body and he looked over to the Witcher.

"She wants your energy." The vampire said. "Forgive her; she's not able to think clearly at the moment. All she wants to do is…well, feed."

"How are you able to withstand that?" Geralt asked, noticing Root's body beginning to take on the familiar golden glow.

Regis shrugged. "I'm immortal. I suppose it would tire me after a time. I can be wounded after all, or weakened. But as you know it takes some time, or a very, very powerful singular blow."

The Witcher looked upon the woman that he loved and held his hand out to her. The vampire released her and Root laced fingers with Geralt. Straightaway he felt vitality being pulled from his body, leaving through the palm of his hand.

"That's strong." Geralt said, his golden eyes widening.

"It is indeed." Regis replied.

Root loved the taste of Geralt's energy, it being very different from Regis'. The Witchers' vitality hummed in her veins like the fire of the Igni sign, where as Regis' felt more like a slow and steady stream of water.

"Well, would you look at that." Regis said and both men leaned over. "Look at her eyes."

They watched as Root's eyes got lighter and lighter, until the green was almost a bronze, green-gold color. And then they sat spellbound as streaks of white began to appear in her hair.

"She's taking on your traits!" the vampire exclaimed. "Look at that!"

Geralt shook his head. "That's…that's enough, Root. Here, take her, Regis."

Regis gently pried Root's fingers from Geralt's and she complained with a soft growl.

"Don't you growl at me." Regis said playfully, tapping her nose. "Are you alright, Geralt?"

The Witcher nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Just…wow is that powerful. I can see now why that cultist was scared shitless. I bet she nearly killed him. No normal man could withstand that. Don't ever let her feed from Dandelion. He'd be dead in minutes."

Root nodded her head, understanding. And within moments of her ceasing to draw from the Witcher, her eye and hair color returned to their normal green and brown. Regis let her drink until he felt the energy draw taper off and her eyelids grew heavy and drooped closed. When her lips went slack he removed his wrist and dabbed the blood away.

"There we go." He said softly. "My that was amazing, Geralt. I didn't know she could do that. She's never taken on my traits before, not that I'm aware of. I wonder if that's deliberate or random, or what causes that? Such a wonderful, beautiful woman our Root is. And that was a long, long feed. She should be sated for a while."

The Witcher yawned, exhausted from his long watch, and tired from her feeding.

"Ah yes of course. Get some rest. Forgive my ramblings." Regis said quietly and covered Root as the Witcher lay down to sleep next to her.

The vampire connected to her thoughts and was pleased to see that she was resting in a profoundly deep sleep and was in utter, sheer ectasy of mind and body. Geralt was already snoring, having fallen asleep almost as soon as his head had touched the pillow.

"Sleep well, my friends." Regis said softly.


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

The woman landed on her backside with a thump, her breath whooshing out in a huff. The Witcher turned and flipped his steel blade, extending it to the side.

"Again, Root." He said. "Up you get."

Vernon Roche, Emiel Regis, Dandelion, a few of the elves, including Errol and Valonna, and several solidiers, stood in a wide circle around the woman and the White Wolf. Root scrambled to her feet, grabbed the short sword that had been loaned to her from a soldier and she faced off with the hunter again. Geralt's face was guarded, giving nothing away as he stepped to the left. Root watched his feet.

"No, Root." He barked, pointing two fingers toward himself. "Watch me. Never lower your eyes to an enemy."

The woman looked up and Geralt could see the frustration in her. After nearly three weeks of daily training with a blade, she was still making the mistake of getting focused on the wrong things. Whether it was watching his feet, or noticing movement in her periphreal vision. With a snarl she lunged at him and the witcher easily parried her wild swing, swatting the blade away. He shook his head.

"You're not thinking. Too emotional. Focus, Root. On me. Again."

She crossed blades with him; one, two, turn and one, two, tap, clang and turn. Geralt nodded.

"Better. Again."

Forward step, clang, turn and tap, tap, clash! Their blades met, and Root slid hers all the way to the hilt of his steel. She smiled.

"That was good." She panted, sweat dripping from her brown locks. "Right?"

Geralt pushed her away and nodded, the ghost of a smile on his rugged face.

"Again." He said, raising the weapon, holding it with two hands and widening his stance.

Root stepped lightly to the side, crossing foot over foot and then leapt forward, raising her blade high. Geralt parried the wide swing, brought his boot up and met her chest, sending her onto her back in the snow. Regis winced but remained silent and there was a gasp from the crowd. Breathless Root sat up, holding her sore breasts.

"One well executed move and you get overconfident. That would've cost you your life, Root. Get up." The Witcher said firmly.

The forest maiden rose to her feet and retrieved the blade. She took a breath and faced him, raising the weapon. Geralt looked into her eyes, knew she was getting tired but was obediently keeping up the training exercise without complaint. He stepped toward her and she held her ground. He nodded.

"Good. Use the space you have in a fight. Don't concede any ground to the enemy unless you have to." He said. "Come on."

Step and turn, clang! Tap and swing, clash, and turn and she parried the Wolf's strikes, holding her blade at the ready. Her shoulders heaving, sweat pouring down her face. Root pressed the attack, tap and parry, turn, clang and clash! She forced the Witcher to the ring of onlookers.

"Good." He said with a nod, sheathing the steel blade into the scabbard on his back. "Now run."

Root's face fell as she stood panting, handing him the training blade.

"Past the garrison, around the grove and back three times." He said and motioned with his chin for her to get moving.

With a nod, Root took off down the dirt road that was now visible since warmer temperatues had cleared the main track of snow. He watched her go and the crowd dispersed, except for the main companions of the Witcher's party.

"That was markedly better than last time." Roche said, handing Geralt a canteen.

Geralt drank the icy cold water gratefully and nodded.

"Indeed. She's still making basic errors and her issue of getting distracted isn't helping. But otherwise this is fairly normal for beginners." He replied.

"I'm going to get some dinner going." Dandelion said and headed back toward the camp, unfolding the marvel that was the outdoor kitchen.

Root panted heavily but forced her burning limbs to continue running, wanting so much to do well and exactly as the Witcher had instructed. Rounding the edge of the glade, she remembered the encounter with the Navigator and how she'd been unable to resist the mighty huntsman. The memory fueled her desire to be stronger, faster, better and she pushed on, making the final run toward home.

"For my family." She whispered, panting. "I have to be better for my friends and loved ones."

Geralt was waiting as she raced back after the third lap. He handed her the canteen.

"A full two minutes earlier than last time. You're getting faster, Root. Well done."

She drank the water eagerly and licked her lips, smiling at him, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Root's short hair was drenched with perspiration and stuck out wildly as she ran her hand threw it.

"What I would give for a proper bath." She said, wiping her brow. "Sweet spirits of the forest send me a tub."

Geralt chuckled and put a hand on her cheek.

"You look lovely all disheveled and…wet." He said in his sexy, gravelly voice.

Root flushed deep red and the Witcher couldn't help but laugh at the sweet response.

"Go get changed." He said, nodding to the carriage. "The bard is cooking supper."

After Root had stripped off her clothing in the carriage, she paused for a moment, got an idea in her mind, and leapt out of the back, shifting fluidly into her wolf form. She landed gracefully and stretched her long, lithe limbs, shook her massive body, and felt the strength and power of her werewolf form for the first time in several weeks. Turning her lupine head, she heard several voices suddenly erupt into shouting and the sound of blades being drawn.

"No!" yelled Vernon Roche. "Stand down, men. Stand down, all of you! That's Root."

The men under his command all looked completely dumbfounded, holding their weapons, unsure what to think.

"I said put those away." Roche ordered. "Get to know that form because if you fire or draw on her you'll answer to me."

The werewolf lowered her ears. She'd completely forgotten that the soldiers who'd accompnied Roche had no idea that she was a werewolf. She looked down at the ground sheepishly as he walked over.

"Needed a stretch, eh?" he said scratching behind her ear. "Next time tell me."

She rumbled an apology and he gave her a playful shove.

"Going for a run?" he asked.

Root huffed and rose up onto her back legs, being nearly six feet tall when walking bipedal in that form. Glancing around, she spied her training blade resting on the driver's seat of the wagon and walked over. Dandelion just about wet himself as she came around the corner and gave him furry, fanged, wolfy grin.

"Haaagaaah shit! Oh! Roo, you scared me nearly to…oh my goodness. Wha… why…why are you walking like that?" the bard asked, looking her up and down, noticing her walking upright for the first time.

She slid the blade from the sheath and took a few long strides over to the area that had been set up with a straw training dummy. The Viziman soldier followed the werewolf, curious, and leaned up against the back of the wagon. Root gripped the sword in her paw, finding it harder to hold with thicker fingers and claws, but she was determined to try. Planting her paws in a neutral stance, she took a few swings at the dummy, getting a feel for how the weapon felt in her shifted hands.

The bard poked his head around the carriage and saw the huge brown furred werewolf standing on two legs, swinging a blade around.

"Geralt?" he called out nervously. "Ahhhmmm, you should see this…"

"I see, I see. She's fine." The Witcher said, joining Roche.

Root took a few more swings at the dummy but lost her grip on the blade. She huffed and with a growl picked it up and tried again. But the problem was that the short sword, in her shifted form, was too small. Geralt tilted his head, pulled the steel blade from its sheath and approached.

"Try this." He said, handing her the grip, while he took the short blade.

The werewolf held the steel long sword, gripping it in her large paws and turned toward the strawman. One, two, tap and…crunch! The werewolf's ears fell, and she rumbled apologetically as one of the wooden arms swung in the breeze, held on by a single splinter, and then broke off. Roche chuckled and Geralt shook his head.

"Come on then." He said, facing her while raising the short sword.

Root held Geralt's blade lightly, easily holding the larger grip that could be used in a one or two-handed fashion. With a growl she crossed blades with him and the Witcher's eyes became guarded.

"Focus, Root." He said softly. "Come at me."

Step, lunge and swing! The werewolf executed a feint and Geralt rolled to the side, parrying the steel with the shorter blade.

"Good!" he said.

Root circled, stepping far more easily and smoothly in her wolf form than her human form, watching the hunter with keener, sharper eyes. She saw the skin of his jaw twitch ever so slightly before he came at her and she met his blade, crossing weapons, her muzzle inches from his chisled jaw, neither giving way. At last he pushed her away and Root raised the weapon defensively, growling. Geralt twirled the short sword with a flourish, stepped toward the werewolf and piroueted at the last moment, bringing the blade around to the otherside….clang! Steel rang on steel as she blocked the fast strike. Leaning into her stance, Root pushed the blade up and away from her, gripped the blade with two hands and brought it down with a mightly clash as Geralt blocked and sparks flew. The werewolf pressed the attack, lashing out with her claws and the witcher was forced to give way, leaping back, landing in a crouch. His golden eyes met hers and there was pride in them.

The werewolf dropped the steel sword and absolutely clobbered the Witcher in an embrace, picking him up and clutching him to her furry chest. Roche burst out laughing while his soldiers all looked at the spectacle with unbelieving eyes.

"Alright, alright, put me down you silly woman." Geralt said, playfully slapping her muzzle. "So we'll train you in both forms."

"That's just what the Viziman army needs. Werewolf shock troops." Roche said with hearty laugh. "Well done, mi'lady."

But Root's attention had turned to the Speaker as he approached. The werewolf dropped to all fours and lowered her ears, trying to be as small as possible. Geralt and Roche fell silent as the elf walked over. He paused for a moment, and then extended a trembling hand, laying it on her wide head, feeling the soft fur. Errol took a breath, realizing then that he'd been holding it, and smiled. It was clear he was still much shaken at seeing Root in her werewolf form, but he was determined to move past it. She nuzzled his hand, rumbling happily as he ran his fingers over her muzzle and under her jaw.

"I'm impressed, Speaker." Regis said, having joined the men by the carriage. "It takes a brave man to face his fears as such."

The elven man nodded.

"You are ulfhedinn." He said softly. "Not like the werewolves here. Your bloodline must come from Skellige."

Root nodded.

"More fur, more pronounced wolf-like head and body, stronger and faster than the types found on the mainland. Yes. I've done some study since…well since the attack." Errol said, lowering his hand. "Thank you, Root."

The Speaker nodded to the men and headed back to his people. Root then turned her attention to the vampire and laid her ears back. Regis raised an eyebrow, tossed his cloak over his shoulders with a grand flourish, and strode forward.

"Hey, guys, dinner is…oh. Oh, she's toast." Dandelion said, holding a spatula and peering around the corner as the vampire and werewolf faced off.

"She has no chance." Geralt said, crossing his arms.

"I don't know, Wolf. She made you give ground. Ten orens that she pins him." Roche said.

"That would be an unfair bet." The Witcher said with a glance to the soldier.

"Oh? Why is that?" Vernon said.

"Because you don't know what Regis can do."

Root leapt toward Emiel Regis but huffed in confusion as there was only air where a split second ago there'd been a man. Roche's eyes widened at how quickly the vampire moved, he now standing behind the werewolf without her even knowing it. He crossed his arms with a triumphant smirk, blinking into thin air as she turned. But the werewolf knew the smell of anise, wormwood, basil, sage and lavender well, and snapped her jaws toward him as he passed, catching just a piece of his black cloak in her teeth. Regis re-appeared and showed the tips of his teeth to her when he grinned.

"Clever girl. My scent gave me away did it?" he whispered, circling her. "That wouldn't be the first time."

Root laughed, a dark, growly rumble and spat the fabric from her teeth, baring her fangs at him.

"Holy shit he's fast!" Roche exclaimed. "But she's pretty fast too. And look at those teeth!"

"Won't matter, Vernon. Just wait." Dandelion said, walking around to watch, tossing a towel over his shoulder.

The werewolf watched Regis' every move, including observing how intensely he was gazing at her. She knew what to look for, a certain piercing stare, a feeling of being drawn in.

"I can read your thoughts, dearest." Regis said, tapping his temple. "You cannot hope to win against me."

Root growled and shook her head. She leapt toward him again and Regis easily dodged, lightly touching her shoulder just to prove he was in striking distance.

"He can what?" Roche said, looking at the Witcher.

"Hard to explain." Geralt said. "Come on, Root. Give him a good beating."

The werewolf licked her jaws, the blue-black tongue gliding over dagger length canines. Root then rose up onto her back legs and roared, but the vampire was not intimidated in the slightest and stood there, easily within striking distance, practically begging her to try and reach him.

"Oh, you don't scare me." He said, his voice becoming soft and soothing. "You're just a big pup."

Geralt nudged Dandelion, who'd begun to sway on his feet. "Stay awake, bard."

Vernon too shook his head, blinking, feeling the pull of the vampire's voice. Regis extended his hand toward the werewolf and gazed deeply into her eyes.

"And now you are undone." he said and motioned her toward him. "Come."

Root's shoulders dropped and she became docile, walking to the ancient man obediently. Emiel Regis raised his hand to her muzzle.

"Very good." He said. "You see, gentleman. No problem."

"Is that part of your um…your own unique abilitites?" Roche asked, walking forward and gazing up at the entranced werewolf.

"It is indeed. She knows she could never defeat me. But she enjoys trying all the same." Regis said, patting her snout. "Wake up, my dear. Come back to us."

Root's eyes cleared, the mist parting with a few quick blinks, and she saw Vernon standing there. She grumbled, muttering incoherently and looked over to Regis.

"No, no we didn't tell him that." He replied with a glance to the Witcher.

"Dinner is ready, folks." Dandelion said, heading back to the kitchen to plate up. "Come and get it."

"Tell me what?" Roche asked.

"Roo, are you going to eat in that form?" the bard called.

The werewolf's fierce shape melted away to reveal the curvy figure of the green eyed, bare skinned woman of the woodland realm. Root leaned close to Vernon, gently touched her nose to his, kissed the corner of his mouth and then skipped away, hopping up into the carriage to dress. The soldier stood there, speechless.

"No! I'm coming, Dandelion. Be right there!"

"You're drooling, Roche." Geralt said, bumping shoulders with his friend as he passed. "Come on."

"Wait, Emiel." Roche said, and the vampire turned. "What did she ask you about?"

He paused for a bit before replying.

"I shouldn't tell you, Vernon." Regis said, his dark eyes shining, reflecting the firelight. "You'll see. Just…watch her. You'll figure it out. Come. Let's eat."


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

A few hours later would find the Witcher and company all reclining around their bonfire, full and content after a hearty meal of venison backstrap, mashed parsnips and, thanks to Vernon Roche, apple cobbler dripping with molten brown sugar and chunks of fresh butter. The days were getting longer and all of them were feeling the desire to be rid of the snow and welcome in the green and sunshine that was spring and summer. But it would seem that the spirits of winter were not yet ready to let them out of their grasp, as large, fluffy flakes began to drift down from the steel blue sky.

"In a few weeks, we'll be able to maneuver the carriage and carts down the main track of road." Geralt began. "Errol has expressed that he thinks he'd like to settle in the Morhen Valley, make a new start for his people there. There is a place high in the mountains near a crystalline lake that is rich with game, fresh water, building materials and everything they might need to make a new start. It's secluded and cut off from much the world, and they'll be safe from persecution. Unless everything in our world goes up in smoke and the mayhem spreads even to the most isolated parts of the wilds."

"And since we're going there ourselves," he continued. "I think it's a fine idea."

Emiel Regis blew smoke rings into the cool, winter air.

"What will your man Vesemir think of that? You say they'll be safe from persecution. I take that to mean your mentor is not a bigot?"

Geralt shook his head. "Not that I've ever known. Ves hates monsters and that's about it."

"Some would say that still makes him a bigot, old friend." Regis said gently, and Geralt rolled his eyes. "But I take it you mean he hates monsters of the, "I've come to eat you!" variety."

"Don't annoy me with your shit, vampire." The Witcher mumbled.

"Are you certain Regis and I will be safe, Geralt?" Root asked.

Geralt smiled at her. "Afraid my wild woman?"

"A little, yes." She admitted. "And for Regis too."

Regis stroked her shoulder as she rested against him. "My dear, be not afraid. I have passed as human for nigh on five hundred years. But to be frank, if I am found out, which I very much doubt I will be, but if it happened, what an opportunity for these witchers to learn about people like you and I."

"Wouldn't they just use that knowledge though to hunt your kin?" Roche asked, tossing some kindling into the shimmering orange coals. "Such close proximity to a band of professional hunters might be giving them information, valuable information, to slay others."

Root looked over to Geralt who raised an eyebrow and shot a look in Roche's direction.

"Yeah, thanks for that."

"Well? It's true." Roche said.

"Yes, there's some truth to that. But trust me when I say that Vesemir and those instructed by him are already some of the most learned men in the world when it comes to monsters. Sure there are some we know little about, higher vampires like Regis here for example, but it's not like he's going to be spilling the vamp beans in unguarded conversations. And as for Root, it's unlikely any of the others will even pick up on her vampiric nature. And we already know her wolf blood comes from Skellige, ulfhedinn, and we've killed many of them, so there isn't anything to know."

Root looked into the fire and was quiet. Regis gently squeezed her shoulder and shook his head at the Witcher.

"What?" Geralt said defensively. "It's what we do. Some monsters still need killing you two."

"No, I know, Geralt." Root said giving him a smile. "I was just thinking about how…well, never mind. I won't get all mushy with you boys around. Dandelion, play us a song?"

"As you wish, mi'lady." The bard said, settling the lute on his lap. "Your lullaby?"

"No!" she squeaked, and her eyes darted to Vernon, who was whittling a piece of wood.

"You wrote her a lullaby?" Roche asked, looking up.

"I did indeed." Dandelion said, strumming lightly. "Very well. Any requests?"

"I know one I'd like to hear, master bard." Regis began. "I once heard it performed many years ago now by another. Not nearly equal to your talent, but she was quite good. I believe the piece is called, "The Vagabond"

"Ahh, I do know it. Alas it is for two parts though and we have no wind instruments at hand."

"But we do." Said the soft voice of the Speaker. "May I join you?"

Geralt shifted over so that Errol could sit next to Dandelion, and the elven man slipped an exquisitely carved wooden recorder from a soft leather pouch. It was carved with curling oak and ash leaves intertwined with thorns.

"Oak, ash and thorn." Root said softly. "Very magical, powerful plants. What a gorgeous piece of craftsmanship, Errol."

He inclined his head and then looked to the bard. The duo began to play, with Dandelion beginning, filling the air with the plucking of strings, followed by the rich sound of a low range recorder. Root relaxed against Regis' chest, watching the snow fall from the sky. She felt happy, content and excited all at once. The woman was surrounded by friends and loved ones, something she never thought she'd have while living in the tiny shack in the woods. Her enchanting and powerful Regis, to whom she was bonded. Geralt, the greatest witcher of their age, wise, wonderful and cranky though he could be. Sweet and silly Dandelion, who could charm his way out of anything he happened to blunder into. And newest to their group was Vernon Roche, a man Root sincerely hoped would stay with them, but she knew his primary duty was to his king. Which she understood, being that she too had a primary; her beloved vampire, sire and mate Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy.

The large snowflakes drifted lazily down from the winter sky and the werewolf watched them, enchanted by the feathery touch as they'd land on her cheek and melt, leaving a tiny, cold droplet. She blinked as a few of them fell on her eyelashes. It reminded her of being a young cub, seeing her first snow fall in the deep woods she and her father lived in.

* * *

"What is it, daddy?" young Selithlene asked, sitting between the great werewolfs front legs, sheltered by his chest.

Curamil chuckled as the werewolf pup swatted at the large flakes swirling around their paws.

"Snow, little Root. This is the time of winter, when the world sleeps until spring. It is like a great, white blanket that lulls all it touches into slumber. Until the green comes and brings new life and vitality to the land and all its creatures."

The young werewolf snapped her jaws at a flake and licked her muzzle.

"Will we bring the Horned One an offering tonight? For the return of the green?" she asked, gazing up at him with pine green eyes that were a match to his own.

The mighty brown wolf nodded, turning his muzzle in the direction of the forest altar.

"Indeed we will, Seli…Root. And for his blessing, that we might have enough meat for our suppers. The great leshan has been kind to us, Root. Always remember that we are guests in his realm and you need never fear. Forget that even once, and the mighty Lord of Death and the Hunt will not provide."

"Yes, Papa." Root said reverently. "I won't forget."

"Root?" Curamil said.

"Yes, Father?"

"Do you remember what I told you? About the future?"

"I do. The White One will come. And in his wake will come those who will shake the world to its foundations. Whether for good or for ill, that will be in their hands." Root replied, knowing the short verse as one of the first things her father taught her.

Curamil nodded and nuzzled her. "Watch always for his coming. For Gwynbleidd is cunning, and clever. But listen to him, for he is wise."

"Yes, Papa." She said.

* * *

Root was staring at Geralt as the song finished, her green eyes filled with wonder.

"Gwynbleidd." She said, barely uttering the word.

The White Wolf raised an eyebrow, curious as to what her thoughts were. The werewolf looked around at the faces gathered around the fire; a Witcher, an aen seidhe archer, a human bard, the commander of an army, an ancient vampire and herself. She wondered who else they would be meeting along the way; who else would travel the world with the Gwynbleidd to shake it to the core of its being?

"Yes, Root?" Geralt replied, his golden eyes resting on her, a light smile on his aged face that was in need of another shave.

"I…I'll tell you later." She said, blinking a few times to clear her mind of the powerful memory.

He nodded.

"That was a wonderful performance, gentleman." Regis said. "You're quite the musician too, eh then Speaker? Absolutely fantastic."

"You humble me, sir." Errol replied, inclining his head respectfully. "But I think we all know who the real master here is."

"Ah, whatever." Dandelion said, waving the compliment away.

"Yeah, don't say anymore, you might make him blush and squeal like a girl." Geralt said, giving his companion a nudge.

The company laughed merrily, passing the night in happy fellowship together under the winter sky.

* * *

A few hours later…

"Alright, gents, who's in? Errol? Good man, good man. Roche you're in, right?" Dandelion said, shuffling the Barrel deck.

Regis flipped the hem of his cloak behind a crate and took a seat while the elven Speaker, Vernon and Geralt gathered around as well. The night was filled with the scent of whiskey, smoking herbs and the sounds of a band of raucous men enjoying a good time. The soldiers too were gathered around their own small tables, those who weren't on duty that is, whilst the sentries carefully minded their surroundings and kept a sharp eye in every direction, protecting the party. Root sat on top of a large crate, wrapped in a heavy wool blanket and leaned on Regis' shoulder, still trying to understand how the fast paced game was played with its amazingly complex rules.

"First time in, Errol, you get first move." The bard said.

Vernon came to the table, uncorked another bottle of spirits, and then checked his cards. The forest maiden leaned over and examined the hand. Vernon smiled up at her and for a moment she admired his handsome face and stunning blue eyes.

"Hello? Roche? Your move." Geralt said, elbowing the soldier in the ribs.

Root pointed to one of his cards and he obliged her, laying a siege engine down in the back row.

"Ahh, I see." The vampire replied. "OK, friends, have a little fog."

Regis played a weather card, causing all stats to be dropped. The Wolf grumbled, rubbing the stubble on his chin. The bard placed a Nilfgaardian foot soldier in his front line and then Errol played an archer on his second. Geralt tossed back a shot of whiskey and dispelled the fog, laying down an Aedirnian sorceress card.

"You sneaky bastard. Always with the sorceress card." Regis said, giving his friend a smirk. "Someone on your mind?"

"She's always on my mind. I'm sure you can relate." Geralt said, winking at Root.

"What next, lady?" Roche asked, showing his hand to her.

The forest maiden pointed at the katakan vampire card and the soldier placed it in his front line.

"Well, played. I'll see that kat with a berserker." Regis said. "Pass the bottle, Root? Thank you, my love."

They continued circling around, until finally it was just down to Vernon Roche and the White Wolf. Roche had three siege engines down, four archers and his katakan and was ready to give the Witcher a right good beating at Barrel.

"Your move, Wolf. You're toast." The soldier said. "What do you have? Got another mage card tucked up your arse?"

The party erupted into laughter and Geralt grinned, but remained silent. Before him he had six mages in the back row and two archers in the second.

"Well, if you insist you whoreson here you go. Legendary mage card Lara Dorren, firestorm; kiss your siege engines goodbye. And that's my commander card, granting me an additional draw and I play heavy winds, blowing our archers' aiming to bits. Leaving your one katakan against six mages." The Witcher said, his golden eyes practically laughing at the Viziman who was just so certain he'd won.

"Well, fuck me." Vernon said. "Nicely done, Wolf."

"You do realize that, in actual fact, a katakan is more than a match for six mages, yes?" Regis remarked.

"Depends on the mages." The Witcher said, draining his stein of ale. "But yes, your average wizard or sorceress would be decimated; which is why we need witchers. Don't start with me, Pointy."

Regis rolled his eyes and hugged Root.

"Are you not sleepy yet, my dear? This is rather late for you."

"No, no this is great. Play again." She said happily.

"You heard the lady, boys." Dandelion said. "Roche, you deal? I'm gonna have a piss."

"Will do. Ante up, gentleman. Five orens. Speaker?"

"I must retire, friends. It has been a pleasure. Thank you. Till morning." The elf said and walked back to the elven camp, Valonna greeting him at their fire with an embrace.

"I am much pleased by the change in Errol." Regis said quietly. "He seems so much happier, although I'm certain the memories are still frightening."

"Agreed. Although I wonder which werewolf scared him more? The one who attacked him, or the one who set him straight?" Geralt said giving Root a smile.

The woman blushed and swept her fingers behind one ear.

"I didn't want to scare him." She said, leaning on Regis' shoulder.

The vampire put his arm around her and held her close, his lips just touching her ear.

"Someone is more tired than they let on." He said softly, making her squeal and hide her face.

Without Root seeing, Regis looked over to Vernon and gave him a slight nod. The soldier noted the silent remark but, not understanding, dealt the cards. Dandelion came back to the make-shift card table, tossing his orens into the pot.

"Excellent. Pass that bottle around would ya, Geralt? Root, you sure you don't want to play? We'll go easy on you."

"You'll do no such thing, master Dandelion." Root said, feigning offense. "If I were to play, I'd expect fair treatment. Geralt doesn't go easy on me with sword training so I'd expect no different with…what is this called again? Barrel."

The poet put his hands up and laughed.

"Okay, okay, easy, Roo. Are you in then or no?" he said, picking up his cards. "Ah shit."

"Nah. I just wanna…watch." She said, stiffling a yawn.

The men began another round and Root leaned on her love's shoulder, watching the strategy as he placed cards on the playing field. Across from her, the White Wolf saw the telltale sign that the forest maiden was beyond tired. She had dark marks under her eyes, which were glassy and heavy, but she was having so much fun being with them all. Root would drift off for a moment, and then force herself awake. However, it wasn't long before she lost her struggle and leaned heavily on Emiel, who of course knew the exact moment she'd fallen asleep.

"I'll take her, Geralt. You stay." He said, folding his hand. "Come on you."

Regis picked her up easily and she barely made a sound, her whole body loose and limp.

"Well, that took a lot longer than I thought it would." Dandelion said, placing a drowner card.

"What did?" Vernon asked, lighting a pipe. "Your move, Wolf."

"Zip it, bard." Geralt said, tossing a glance in Dandelion's direction and placing a dwarven foot soldier in the front line.

"What? He'll figure it out eventually."

"Figure what out?" Roche replied, laying down legendary elf Faoiltiarna. "Is this about what Emiel wouldn't tell me earlier? And I get another draw and special ability, two archers, two assasins."

"Nice card, Roche!" the poet remarked. "Well, if he didn't tell you, how can we even answer that?"

"It most likely is and yes, you'll figure it out." Geralt said, laying his next card. "Regis gave you a hint earlier. Did you miss it?"

Roche turned his head, drew on the pipe and exhaled.

"He said something about her being tired. But I don't know what that means." The Viziman said, finishing his mead.

The Witcher shrugged. "Fair enough. You will."

Regis returned to the table and picked up his hand.

"Ah now where were we? Oh, nicely played, Vernon. Very well then, daughter of the golden dragon…Sasenthesis."

Dandelion folded. "I'm passing. I got nothing to beat that."

The Witcher maintained his best straight face as Regis leaned his elbow on the table and smirked at him and Roche.

"Come on then, boys. Afraid of a dragon?" the vampire said, his eyes glinting.

Geralt raised an eyebrow and placed his card.

"Assault crossbow." The White Wolf said, grabbing a bit of venison jerky to nibble on.

Vernon rubbed his chin, thinking.

"Special ability. Syrup torture on the dragon. Grounded, my good man, grounded."

The vampire considered his next move, draining a mug of honey wine.

"Bah. Alright then. Siege engine. So, Vernon, have you unveiled what Root both does and does not want you to know?"

"Is she asleep?" Geralt asked. "Like deeply asleep? Assault on the dragon, crossbow to the brain case. I really don't want her to hear and feel teased."

"What does that mean?" Vernon said, folding his hand. "What would she want me to know? Is she afraid to tell me? I pass. Take him down, Wolf."

The vampire sighed and folded. "You win again, Geralt. My but you're a fierce opponent. Zoltan did indeed teach you well. Yes, she's asleep. No, she won't wake. Afraid to tell you? No, not afraid. Surely you noticed something when you and she enjoyed each others' company? And I concur, Geralt, I've no wish to tease. I just happen to know her thoughts on this and you don't."

"About the only thing I noticed was the look of sheer ectasy on her beautiful face. By the gods she smells good too. Other than that, can't say anything stuck out in particular. What are you all on about? Just tell me already." He said, pouring himself another shot of the Mahakam whiskey.

"Not a chance, Roche." Geralt said with a smirk, rising from the card table. "You've already been given a fairly blatent clue."

"Well, blatent to us, Geralt. After all, we know about…that." Regis said, enjoying how Vernon was utterly at a loss.

"Yeah, and remember, old man, I had to point it out to you." The Witcher said, folding his fingers and stretching.

"Oh, well please rub it in, Mr. I Take Seventeen Orgasms to Please My Woman."

"Oooh that was low, Regis. Low!" Dandelion said, but the men all laughed heartily, enjoying the friendly digging on one another as men were often wont to do.

"Well, I know what I'll do then." Roche said, pulling a dagger from his boot. "Come here, bard. I know how to loosen that tongue of yours."

Dandelion raised an eyebrow and both Regis and Geralt exchanged amused looks. Vernon stood the blade up by jabbing the point into the crate that served as their table.

"You won't get it out of me, Roche. No way, no how." The poet said, leaning on his hand. "I'm way more afraid of what these two would do to me if I told you about Root's fetish for…"

Regis clicked his fingers next to the bard's ear and down his head went, lying on his extended arm.

"For what?" Vernon said, exasperated. "Oh, for fucks sake."

The Witcher laughed and shook his head.

"I'm going to bed. You get to stew in it, Vern. When you figure it out, just go easy on her. But enjoy it. Her reactions are worth this struggle you're having."

"Sleep well, Wolf." Roche said, turning to Regis. "What about him?"

The vampire grinned. "Oh, he can wake anytime he likes. I already lifted the spell. Dandelion is quite drunk though so, he may sleep there a bit."

"So, Emiel." Vernon began. "I watched you interrogate Arklan using some sort of…what would that be, mind control? And apparently you can just knock people out as well. What else can you do? If you don't mind me asking."

The vampire considered his response, unsure how much he should reveal to the soldier.

"As far as my abilities as a vampire, enchanting the minds of others and causing deep sleep are indeed things you've seen. I can also change forms under the light of the full moon, although not like our Root. You've also seen how fast we can be, the invisibility as well."

Vernon reflected on what Regis told him, and his thoughts returned to the palace of Vizima, during the feast given to honor Geralt and welcome the guests. Before approaching the White Wolf, Roche had been watching the forest maiden dance with the bard. And then the vampire had approached her, and he recalled Root standing there in a kind of daze, staring, until Regis kissed her.

"You enspelled her during the ball didn't you?" Roche asked him quietly. "I thought maybe she was going to faint when she just stood there, swaying a bit but…that was you. Wasn't it."

Regis smiled in his mysterious way, with pursed lips.

"I did. It was. Now you're catching on."

"But I can't do that." Roche said, giving the ancient man a sideways glance. "And she knows it. So how could she want me to know that when…she knows I…don't…ah fuck I'm losing it."

"It's not about the ability, Vernon." Regis said, rising from the table. "Although she enjoys that too. It's…more about…"

Roche's face finally lit up with understanding and the smirk on his face made the vampire raise an eyebrow.

"Be kind to her, Vernon Roche. Good night."


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Root woke very early, before the sun was even up, and quietly dressed herself while the Witcher snored on. Slipping out the back, she carefully latched it closed and tugged on her mittens, as it was a brisk winter morning. Dandelion was on watch and Root could see that Regis was over at the elven camp having a chat with Errol. As quietly as she could, Root filled the percolator with water and grounds to get coffee ready.

"It's chilly this morning." The bard said in a hushed voice as she came to the fire. "I've got some hot water on the grate if you want tea."

She nodded. "Thanks. Just a quick cup."

Root dropped a few pieces of dried dandelion root and rose hips into her cup and poured the steaming hot water over them, bringing a wonderful aroma to the cool morning. After about ten minutes, she sat down by the fire and sipped. In the far east, she could barely make out the first light of approaching dawn as the horizon turned a deep shade of purple. But for now the stars still shimmered in the clear indigo sky.

The tea warmed up her body and so Root slipped off her cloak and mittens, hung them on the back of the wagon and took off at a light pace down the track of road that the Witcher would have her run for training. She jogged past the old garrison and thought that perhaps later she would have a look around. And then the grove of small trees loomed ahead and she turned, doing a wide circle around them, heading back. Pushing herself, Root increased her speed and kept running right around the edge of their camp, passing the sentries on duty as she did, who gave her a courteous nod. None of the other soldiers had ever approached her, they being a rather silent and professional lot. They kept to themselves and seemed cheerful enough among each other, but their interactions with the elves and the Witchers' party was minimal if not non-existant. The werewolf wondered why that might be, and she made a note to ask Vernon about it later. After all the Commander of the Viziman force was friendly enough. And with that thought, the woman smiled, remembering the night he'd taken her to his bed.

Root knew her body was getting used to the daily training, as she did not get winded nearly as quickly. She did two full laps around the the grove and camp before starting to feel the burn in her lungs and legs. Slowing the pace, she went for one last turn as a cool down. When she jogged back into camp, the golden dawn was finally bringing light to their world, and she grabbed the practice blade.

Standing in the small training area they'd set up, Root thought back to the time she'd come upon the Witcher doing his own morning exercises. Replaying the scene in her mind, it was bittersweet. For it was beautiful watching the master sword-dancer wield his twin blades, his powerful body easily and fluidly rolling from one movement to the next. Yet that was also the morning he'd told her of the vile intentions of the elf Falithe aen Caem. And yet too her thoughts brightened, remembering that such was also the morning she'd given Vernon Roche a good beating. She shook her head and laughed quietly, marveling at how life had brought them all together in the strangest of ways.

"How I love you all." She said softly, raising her blade, saluting the sun.

From memory, Root imitated the Witchers' exercises, taking each move very slowly and carefully, not rushing or trying to execute them perfectly. She closed her eyes, breathed in the cool morning air, and felt the warmth of the sun on her face as she danced with the sword. When complete, Root slowed the pace, and gave thanks to the horned leshan for another day of sunshine, asking him to hasten the return of the green. Opening her eyes she saw Gwynbleidd standing by, leaning on a nearby tree, holding a mug of coffee.

"Good morning, master." She said, lowering the blade and her eyes.

Geralt raised an eyebrow and sipped, shaking his head.

"I'm not your master, Root." He replied, walking toward her, setting the cup on a stump. "Just a warrior wanting to help."

He placed his fingers under her chin and raised her head.

"And I like looking into your eyes. So don't lower them to me." He said softly, running his palm over her chilly cheek. "Elaine adan me aen woedbeanna. I am most pleased by your progress and initiative. You performed that dance quite beautifully. Well done."

She gazed up into his unique witcher eyes, her fingers trailing through the hair at his neck.

"You have the most incredible eyes, Geralt. Are they like that because of your training? Because of the…what did Regis call it? Mutation?"

He nodded. "Yes. So too my hair. That's why they call me the White Wolf. My hair went white after some extended trials and mutations, and I'm of the Wolf school. It's been this way since I was a much younger man, not because I'm getting old."

Root kissed him softly. "You're not old. And even if you were, you're still stunning. Can you see in the dark as well as in the day? Like…well like a wolf?"

"More feline I'd say." He replied, grabbing his coffee. "In fact, one of our potions is called Cat. You should see what happens to these eyes when I'm under its influence. The pupils open wide to take in as much ambient light as possible so we can see in even the darkest of places. Not a bad thing when you have to spend the night locked in a crypt, waiting for a chance to strike at your foe."

Geralt also mused that his eyes would look much like hers did when she was suffering the effects of belladonna poisoning, but he decided to leave that in the past.

"So, Root, tell me about what went through your mind the other night. When you called me Gwynbleidd and had a look of absolute awe on your face." Geralt said.

The woman looked up at him and was silent for while. She wasn't at all sure how he would take what she had to say, knowing the Witcher didn't put much stock in folktales, let alone what her father had taught her about the White One.

"The White One will come. And in his wake will come those who will shake the world to its foundations. Whether for good or for ill, that will be in their hands." She began, and Geralt listened quietly. "My father taught me that verse. And he also said, "Watch always for his coming. For Gwynbleidd is cunning, and clever. But listen to him, for he is wise."

The Witcher remained silent and Root continued.

"When we first met and I was told who you were, naturally I knew of the elven name you go by. Even a lonely woman in a backwater hovel knows the name Geralt of Rivia, though I didn't know what you looked like of course. But…for whatever reason I didn't connect it to what my father had said until just the other night. I'm guessing because when we met there were much larger emotions and thoughts being sorted through than an old werewolf's instructions to his daughter. The snow fall just brought back some memories for me."

"Tell me about this White One." Geralt asked. "I'm not familiar with that term."

Root suddenly felt very embarressed by her actual lack of knowledge concerning the figure her father had always told her about. To them, he was a being out of their legends and myths and like many of those things, descriptions were vague and sparse on the details. But she and her father, like many folksy types, simply accepted the myths as containing some aspect of truth, not requiring further details. She bit her lip and her cheeks flushed. For the first time in her life, Root felt ashamed of her ignorance.

"I…I admit I don't really know anything." She said with a heavy sigh. "I just accepted what father had said. I…I don't really know what it means. That's…that's pretty stupid isn't it?"

The White Wolf smiled kindly, loving the sweet honesty and willingness to be wrong that Root often displayed.

"The fact that you recognize that actually makes you very intelligent, Root. Not stupid. Fools never question their beliefs. Where as you do. Even when challenged on them, as Dandelion did regarding the Sign amulets. You replied with kindness, admitting the folkishness of your views. So, do you think that I am the Gwynbleidd your father spoke of? This…White One?" Geralt asked.

Root shrugged. "I was sure of it the other night. As I looked around at our group of travelers, I felt I'd stumbled into some great mystery. But…now I'm not sure. I feel really silly now, actually."

"You know that Gwynbleidd is really just two elvish words run together to make a title, yes? Gwyn, white. Bleidd, wolf. It could very well be that the figure in your legends is an actual white wolf. I mean you are werewolves after all. But another thing you may not know is this. Are you familiar with the Emperor of Nilfgaard, Emhyr var Emreis?"

"Other than seeing the banner of the Black Sun pass through the hamlet I lived near and hearing his name on the lips of the residents, no, not at all." She answered.

"You saw Nilfgaardian forces pass through that area?" Geralt asked. "How long ago did you last see them would you say?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe a few weeks before we met."

"And you weren't concerned?" Geralt asked quietly.

Root turned her head, her green eyes confused.

"Why would I be?" she replied. "They were like any other force of men that passed through. They bought supplies, watered their horses and moved on. It was actually good for the tiny town in a way. I may have lived alone and fairly self-sufficiently in the woods, but the extra coin and business helped the residents greatly."

The Witcher was reflective for a moment, suddenly uncomfortable about the knowledge that Nilfgaardian forces had recently moved into the area very near, if not within, the Temerian border. And no one, save the wild woman of the woods, seemed to know about it. He made a note to tell Vernon Roche as soon as he could.

"Well, at any rate, one of Emhyr's titles is Deithwen Addan ya Carn aep Morvudd; the White Flame Dancing on the Graves of His Foes. Perhaps this White One refers to him?"

"I suppose it…"

"Commander!" called one of the soldiers. "Rider approaching quickly, ascending the switchback. They're flying Viziman heraldry."

The Witcher and werewolf turned and looked to the eastern edge of their camp. Errol was on his feet, the Brokilon short bow on his shoulder and Roche appeared from his tent, strapping on a sword. Geralt and Root walked over, joined by Regis and Dandelion and met the rider as they cleared the top. The stallion was covered in froth and with trembling legs reared and then collapsed, throwing the rider from the saddle who was wearing the uniform of the Blue Stripes.

"Ves!" Roche called out and ran to the rider, pulling the helm off.

Beneath was a female soldier with short, cropped blonde hair. She had a cloth tied about her head that was a deep burgundy, stained with the wine of her blood.

"Thank Melitele I found you, sir." She said and reached for him. "There's no time…you…you have to…"

Her hand went limp and the light went out of her eyes.

"Ves!" Roche exclaimed, taking her hand and feeling something clutched in it.

"Who is that, Vernon?" Geralt asked.

"My second. I left her in command of the Stripes. She would never have abandoned that order unless…"

"Oh, Regis…" Root gasped, leaning on the vampire's shoulder, pointing to the east. "Look."

Everyone turned in the direction she was pointing. Smoke billowed into the air in the far distance, hanging over the forest like tendrils of fog. Vernon unclasped the woman's hand and unfolded a piece of torn fabric, his eyes widening. The Black Sun of Nilfgaard seemed to look back at them like a baleful eye.

"I have to get back. Ready my horse!" Roche called, rising to his feet. "You men, prepare this woman for burial. The rest of you, we leave immediately."

"Roche, stop." The Witcher said, grabbing the soldiers' shoulder. "You can't rush back there, that's madness. You don't know how large a force you'll encounter."

"Get off me, Wolf. That's my country burning down there. I…"

"Your king is dead, Commander." Spoke a voice from behind them, causing everyone to turn as one.

Before them loomed a huge coal black warhorse. And upon its back, a rider clad in ebony armor, with a winged helm upon his head in the likeness of a bird of prey.

"Vizima burns." The rider said, dismounting and slipping the helm from their head. "The White Flame claims Foltest's throne as his new seat of power in Temeria. I advise you all to abandon this site quickly for he will soon know of your location."

"Because of you?!" snarled Roche, drawing his blade with Errol nocking an arrow, drawing to his cheek.

The man stood calmly before them, his dark hair matted with sweat. He looked to the Witcher.

"No." Geralt said, holding in a snarl of his own. "He came to warn us."

"Well, I'll be…" Regis remarked.

The young, dark haired warrior with steel grey eyes nodded to the ancient man.

"You need to break camp immediately. And you have other problems coming your way as well. I would advise retreating into the most remote place you can find and leave no traces of your whereabouts."

"Who the fuck are you to tell us anything Nilfgaardian filth!" Vernon spat, recognizing the mans' southern accent.

"I am Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach of Vicovaro. But as the vatt'ghern knows, I generally go by Cahir."

All eyes turned to Geralt in shock, except for Regis who hugged a nervously fidgeting Root to his side.

"You can relax your draw, Speaker. He's an…ally." Geralt said, having to force the word from his lips.

Errol replaced the arrow in its quiver, but Roche advanced on the black-armored warrior, his blue eyes flashing and dangerous.

"Fuck that! You wear that armor, you die!"

"Wearing this armor is what allowed me to get through the ranks of enemy soldiers without being stopped. This helm concealed my face from those who know me so I could reach you with this warning. If you are a grateful, wise man, Vernon Roche of Temeria's once great special forces, I'd stand down and heed my words. It would seem you alone are all that remains of King Foltest's best. Live another day, as they say. Vengeance may yet be yours."

With great hesitation, Roche sheathed his blade. He was furious, but not foolish, and turned to the Witcher.

"Geralt?" Root said, her voice trembling. "What do we do?"

The White Wolf turned his eyes to the north, seeing the waterfall in the far off distance sparkle in the sunlight. The winds shifted then, and blew his snow white hair about the shoulders.

"We make for the Morhen Valley." He said. "Everyone gather up your belongings. We leave the moment we're able."

The Speaker nodded and began ordering his men in elvish, with Valonna joining him in getting the children fed a quick breakfast. Root and Dandelion did not question the command and both left to get the carriage home ready to roll. Vernon ordered half his soldiers to bury Ves and the stallion that had bore her in an unmarked grave, with the others helping with the take down of tents and the packing of supplies.

"Geralt, a moment if you please?" Cahir said quietly, stepping up to the Witcher, who glared at him with annoyance.

The Witcher and Regis stood with the young soldier who leaned close to them both, his voice lowered.

"I mentioned you have other problems as well. There is a force of the Eternal Fire a mere half days ride or so from here. They're on the hunt for a werewolf in these parts and they seem to think it's with you. I knew you kept some interesting company, greetings Regis, but is it true? Is a werewolf among your numbers as well?" Cahir asked.

"She is indeed." The vampire replied. "It is good to see you as well. Oh dear, it would seem that encounter has led to greater troubles, eh Geralt?"

"What encounter?" Cahir asked.

"Never the fuck you mind." Geralt snarled, but he too had wondered if the cultists would retaliate in some way.

The young man nodded apologetically. "Forgive me. As it is, you will not be able to outpace them. Not with women and children in tow. These are zealots of a battle hardened type, Geralt. Not street preachers with clubs and pitchforks."

"Great. Professional religious bigots." Regis said with a disgusted snort. "I much prefer the pitchfork wielding kind. Easier to frighten."

"Well, from what I overheard they are frightened, but angry too. Apparently this werewolf shamed their leader, made him lose face in front of some of the faithful. So the church has ordered him to eliminate the werewolf as penance, otherwise they've threatened excommunication. Which, as you know, is the worst punishment the Eternal Fire can hand out to those who sin. Who is this werewolf?"

"The woman standing with me earlier." Regis said, nodding to Root.

Cahir looked her over and turned back to them.

"Not to sound draconian about it but, you could just give her up to them. There's a good chance they'll spare the rest of the party if you do so."

Regis' eyes were black pits of fury as he struggled to conceal his teeth.

"Don't ever say that again, Cahir." His voice deadly calm.

Geralt put his hand on the vampire's shoulder.

"Out of the question. She's with us and like ole Regis here has quite a story about her unique nature. How many are we talking?" the Witcher asked.

"A force of fifty men at most; some of that number being servants or non-warrior types minding their camp and provisions. And, of course, clergyman." The Nilfgaardian said. "Geralt, you have Temerian stallions along with Vernon Roche's men, elven archers, yourself, Regis and me. If we let the rest of the party go on ahead, we can cover their retreat and hold them off."

"Geralt, we cannot let Root know about this." Regis said with very serious eyes. "She will blame herself and want to fight. And since they know what she is…"

"They're armed to the teeth with silver." Cahir said with a nod.

The Witcher cursed and growled.

"And if we don't tell her and don't let her fight we'll never hear the end of it." He muttered.

"She'll get over it, Geralt." Regis said softly. "I'll put her to sleep when we're ready to ride out and face them. Dandelion and Errol will look after her well enough until we return."

"We?" Geralt said, looking over to the vampire. "You're tough stuff, old man, but silver is a threat to you as well. No, you're staying with her. Should something happen to the rest of us, you'll have to lead them to Kaer Morhen. You're the only one who knows the way and the elves are depending on someone to fulfill my contract should I not be able to. Besides, you can't die. Remember Root's needs."

"Always the professional." Regis said with a slight smile. "I hardly doubt a band of zealots is a threat to one such as I but, as you wish."

"And," Cahir added. "Should any of them break our line, your party will need some solid defense besides a bard who swoons at the sight of blood and a single master marksman."

"Understood."

"Let us not waste a moment then, gents." Cahir said. "How can I help?"

As mid-morning approached, the camp was buzzing as everyone pitched in to get the company ready to move.

"Sentries, keep your eyes on the valley and to the west." Geralt called, securing a crate to one of the carts while the quartermaster went about getting the horses strapped up.

"Dandelion, the kettle! Don't forget the kettle." Root said, packing the tea pot into the storage, latching everything securely. "There. That's everything that will fit."

"Root, come here." Geralt said, calling her over to behind the carriage.

He handed her a pair of studded leather pants.

"Get those on. Quickly." He said, unlacing the leather laces of a heavy bodice.

"What, right here?" she asked, blushing. "But…the kids…"

"Do as I say." He replied flatly.

Root stripped off her woolen trousers and shrugged on the stiff armored pants, buttoning them up.

"Arms up." He said and swung the bodice around her back. "This is old, but it will give you some protection. Hold still."

The Witcher pulled on the waxed sinew laces securing the hardened leather bodice, tying her into it snugly. And lastly he handed her a long-sleeved, studded leather jacket that had been dyed black. Root slipped it on, feeling cumbersome with her shirt bunching underneath it and Geralt buttoned that on her as well, standing back and looking her up and down.

"That's all I have cut for a woman. It'll have to do." He said, touching her face. "I didn't think to get you armor of your own."

"Geralt, why do I need this?" she asked, her dark green eyes searching his worried face. "What else did that man say? What's wrong?"

The Witcher's eyes became veiled.

"It's nothing. Just a precaution." He said.

"Don't you lie to me, White Wolf." She replied with a tilt of her head.

"Just do as I say, Root!" he snapped, and then quickly embraced her, pressing his forehead to hers. "Just…please…hear me…stay with the carriage. You understand? Promise me you'll stay?"

Root was shaking. "Alright, my love, yes. I promise. I'll stay. I'll stay."

Geralt stepped back and nodded. He then reached behind, pulled at the hardened laces of the steel scabbard and then held it in his hands, looking into her green eyes.

"I want this back." He said softly, pressing the leather sheath into her trembling hands. "You stay with the others. You keep the elves, Cera, Val and the Speaker safe. You stay with Regis. You hear me?"

"Geralt…no…no, why are you doing this?" she said, her voice rising so he silenced her with a gloved finger to her lips.

"I need you to be calm. The children don't know what's going on. Roche, Cahir, the elven sentries, soldiers and myself are going to stay behind to cover the rest of the companys' escape. Once we're sure the Nilfgaardian forces aren't on our tail, we'll be right along. But there could be trouble. This is just a precaution. Enough now. Help the bard."

Root wanted to argue but Geralt's firm gaze meant the end of the conversation so she nodded.

The noon day sun rose overhead, golden and glorious, a beautiful yet surreal sight considering how nervous most of the Witcher's company was as the draft horses were finally secured to the carriage and Geralt's old mare Roach was tethered to one of their harnesses. Regis climbed into the drivers' seat, with Root seating herself next to him and Dandelion tucked away in the back, stowing the last of the gear snugly so nothing rattled loose. Errol mounted a Temerian mare that'd been hitched to a small cart, in which Valonna, Cera and the other children were huddled. All of the tents and cooking gear had been stowed in the sleeping quarter of the carriage home. The fires had all been put out and buried. With the exception of the hoofprints and wagon wheels, one would never guess a large camp had been there.

Root's green eyes were fastened on the row of men across from her. Elven sentries seated with their famous bows lying across their laps, Viziman soldiers with their horses draped in Temerian heraldry, crossbows and blades within easy reach. The Commander of the Blue Stripes, fierce-eyed and fuming, Vernon Roche, sat upon his resilient stallion that cantered, seemingly ready for a fight. The armored warrior that had come to warn them, Cahir Mawr, waited calmly upon his coal black charger, his face again concealed by the winged helm. And finally the great Witcher, clad in his silvery steel maile, swung himself into the saddle of a lightly muscled mare. Root ran her fingers over the embossed leather scabbard lying across her lap.

"Follow the track northeast, up through the woods until you see the rise of the Simpa. When you do, make for the old shack on the rivers' edge. There is a narrow part of the river there with a tiny spit of land that will make it easy for you to cross. You should have no problem whether it's frozen or flowing, it's quite shallow there." Geralt said, looking to Regis. "That should take you till about nightfall. If you can, camp on the other bank and we'll meet up with you in the morning."

The vampire nodded, gave the team a tap and a whistle and the draft horses easily lurched the carriage home forward, rolling it out of the ruts it'd made from being stationary for weeks. Errol Dorren Ysengith of Bald Mountain nodded to the witcher and the cart bearing the elven refugees followed the large carriage.

"Wait!" Root called and leapt from the seat as Regis reigned in the team.

She ran back to the Witcher who, barely containing his frustration, dismounted. Root threw herself into his strong arms, holding him tightly.

"Root, please…" he said, untangling her arms from around his neck.

"I love you." She whispered softly, and pressed a piece of cloth into his hand. "Please wear it. I know you don't…"

But Geralt quieted her with a kiss to her mouth and then a soft kiss between her eyes. He then slipped the string of the Igni amulet around his neck, the red fabric resting by the ruby-eyed wolf head pendant.

"Now go." He said, motioning to the carriage. "I'll see you soon."

The small caravan again began moving forward and Dandelion waved to his old friend from the back. When they were out of sight, Geralt nodded and jerked the reigns of his mount.

"Let's get these bastards." He said, and the party moved out in silence, heading for the woods surrounding Bald Mountain with Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach of Vicovaro guiding them.


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

As dusk began to settle over the land, the ancient woods became very dark and foreboding. The Witcher's cavalcade rode in silence and darkness, not daring to strike a light, relying on Geralt's keen eyes to guide them. They had entered the treeline as soon as they could to conceal their movement and blur the sight-line of any enemy sentries. Even the horses were silent, as if they knew the importance of stealth. It was crucial that they position their archers and take down as many of the enemies as they could without being discovered. Hopefully, like before, the zealots would scatter but the Witcher had his doubts. These were dangerous religious types who were now fueled not only by their humiliation at the hands of the forest maiden, but also by the threat of being cut off from their church. If they died, they would be martyrs, heroes of the faith. If they lived, and didn't come back with the werewolf's head, they'd be spiritually dead. At least so said their clergy.

"It's too quiet, Geralt." Cahir said quietly, riding next to the hunter. "We should be seeing their fires by now. Yet there is nothing."

"Wait." Roche said from his other side. "Look there."

* * *

The carriage home and cart bearing the company rolled to a halt at the bank of the river just as the sun sank into the horizon and cast the land into shadow. The massive spires of the Morhen Mountains loomed overhead, rising like shadowy guardians to peaks wreathed with eternal ice and snow.

"It's too dark to cross." Regis said. "I don't want to risk breaking a wheel on a rough patch or loose rock. We'll have to cross tomorrow and camp here."

Root swung down from the seat, tucking the Witchers' steel into Roach's saddle-flap.

"No, no fire, Errol. We can't risk it." Regis said, sliding down.

But the elven man glanced at the children, who were clearly exhausted, hungry, and cold.

"Alright." The vampire conceded. "A small one. Dandelion, help me get their tents out."

* * *

The Witcher's party rode up to a single, solitary figure standing with a torch in hand, making absolutely no move whatsoever as they approached. On his dark red robes was sewn the sigil of the Eternal Fire, a flaming rose. In his other he gripped a walking stick crowned with a carved rosebud. The horses surrounded him and Geralt of Rivia dismounted and turned his menacing stare onto the man, who then spit into the witchers' face.

"Mutant filth." The priest said with a sneer.

The While Wolf slowly turned his head, wiping the spittle from his cheek. His eyes burned like pools of gold, the cat-like slits narrow in the light of the torch. He spoke a single word.

"Where?"

"You're too late." He replied with a triumphant smile. "Not quite as concealed as you thought, eh Nilfgaardian? We took a risk letting you see and overhear us, counting on you bumping into this freak and his werewolf bitch. Or is it witch? It would seem the Eternal Fire used you to do his will. Praise be."

The anger that flowed from the Witcher was palpable and Cahir Mawr lowered his head.

"You'll never reach them in time now." The priest said with a wicked smile.

There came then the sound of a bow being drawn back, a slight whisper in the great silence of the forest. But one of the elven sentries was faster, his hazel eyes flicking to the exact spot in the tree behind the priest. With a singular smooth motion he pulled and fired an arrow, knocking the one meant for Geralt's chest off course and then loosed another, dropping the human archer from the tree with a thump and a sickening crunch. The Witcher had not even flinched and no one in his party said a word.

"Was that all you had?" Geralt said, advancing on the man who backed away. "Ahh, I see it was. My aren't we overconfident."

"Kill me and you'll make me a martyr. You're doing me a favor you pathetic wretch! We'll cleanse this world of your stink! You and the elves, monsters and everyone else who pollutes the world of the true god with their false ways and sinful habits. Just look at that piece of witchcraft that you brazenly wear on your chest. You disgust me!"

Geralt reached up and slowly drew the silver blade from its sheath, the golden runes engraved into the metal glistening in the torchlight, and raised it high over the man that'd dropped to his knees, folding his hands in prayer.

"Eternal Fire, into your hands I…"

The Witcher stepped, made one downward swing, and cleaved the priest in two, splitting him from neck to groin. The ragged halves fell apart with a gush of guts, soft organs, and blood spraying from opened arteries. He swiftly climbed into the mare's saddle after tucking the blade under the flap.

"Geralt, I…"

"SHUT UP, CAHIR!" the Witcher screamed and the man of Vicovaro fell silent.

"Ride like the Wild Hunt was on your heels; because if you don't, you'll answer to me. YA!" he said and spurred the mare into a full gallop.

* * *

Cera and the other children smiled as the bard sat with them on the sandy riverbank, huddled together, close to the tiny fire that Regis had allowed them to build despite being uncomfortable about it. Errol Dorren kept his eyes on the direction they'd come from, his Brokilon bows always within reach, while Regis and Root prepared a simple supper.

"Deedeelion, do more tricks for us!" Cera said, clapping her hands and the other children brightened.

Root smiled, hearing how the elven children pronounced the bards' name and it lightened her heart a bit. All day she had been worried sick about the Witcher and Vernon Roche. But Regis assured her that it was purely just for good measure that they'd stayed behind to make sure the emperor's forces weren't on their trail right away. She ladled some of the leftover venison stew into bowls and tucked a good chunk of bread into each.

"Alright little ones, here you are. Eat up." She said.

Root, Regis and Errol stood by their transports looking out into the distance; all of them wanting to hear the sound of hoofprints following in their path from the road. And there came indeed the sound of hooves, but not from the road. Directly west of their position, the vampire spotted the row of torches first as a mounted force began to crest a distant hill. His black eyes widened.

"No." he whispered.

Errol and Root turned to him.

"Who is that?" the werewolf asked.

"Valonna!" Regis barked, whirling in a blur toward the women and children. "Get in the cart. All of you! Now. Take them across. Go! Go now, please, please don't argue."

Confused the children looked around, their eyes filled with fear.

"Up you get." Dandelion said, knowing by Regis' look to obey immediately. "Come on, it'll be like hide n seek. It's our turn to hide."

"Dandelion, you and Val get them across and you keep going, you hear? Don't you stop for anything." The vampire said and the bard nodded, for once not opening his mouth to complain.

"Regis?" Root cried, looking ready to panic. "Who is that? What's going on?"

"Val, you drive the cart. The bard will take the carriage-home with the supplies behind you. GO! Quickly."

With a snap of the reigns the carriage and cart lurched into the river and Regis held his breath, hoping they would make it across without incident…and they did. The Witcher had been right about it being an easy crossing. He then kicked out the fire, burying it with sand, plunging them into darkness.

"REGIS!" Root screamed.

The vampire stopped, his keen eyes seeing the woman clad in studded leather armor wrapped in shadow, trembling and confused.

"They're flying the sigil of the Eternal Fire." Errol called. "By the gods, it's them. Not again."

Root turned her fierce eyes onto her mate and for the first time in five hundred years the vampire actually felt a tiny bit afraid.

"You knew?!" she said, the accusation in her voice driving like a stake. "Where's Geralt?"

"He and the others were going to take care of them while we fled." Regis said, glancing at the advancing line of cavalry. "Cahir brought us the news they were mounting an attack."

"Why?" she gasped and then Regis saw her eyes realize the answer. "No…"

Root stumbled backwards, her eyes flooding with tears. Regis swiftly stepped forward and held her beautiful face in his hands.

"Listen to me, my love. They're armed to the man with silver. Not crossbow bolts, not steel. Silver. One hit, just one and you'll…I won't be able to save you from those kinds of aggravated wounds." He said.

"Not the time." Errol said, drawing back his longbow. "They're close. I'm firing when they're in range."

"Run." Regis said, caressing her cheek. "Go with Dandelion and Valonna, help the children."

"No, no…no…I won't leave you. I…can't…" she said, her voice breaking. "My heart hurts, Regis…I can't bear it…"

"Please don't make me make you, Root. Please?" He said softly.

"REGIS!" the Speaker called and loosed an arrow, felling the closest horse and rider with a single shot.

The forest maiden turned on her heel and ran into the freezing cold water, dashing across the shallows and fled after the carts, blinking away tears. The vampire nodded and vanished into thin air as the horsemen rode right into where they'd been just moments ago, knocking the elven man down. Errol groaned and reached for his bow, but a heavy boot collided with the elf's face, sending him onto his back, his consciousness barely in tact.

"Get him on his feet." snarled their leader, a brawny man in heavy plate. At his side were twin daggers bearing the mark of the Eternal Fire.

Strong hands gripped the Speaker under his arms and hauled him up. A plated fist then smashed into his jaw and he felt bones break, and skin tear. But he refused to cry out.

"Where's the beast? Where's the bloody rest of your miserable little group, knife ear?"

"Ayd f'haeil moen hirjeth taenverde." The son of aen seidhe replied. "I conquer with courage rather than strength."

The man punched Errol Dorren Ysengith again, reddening the elven man's chest as blood gushed from the nose.

"Dubhenn haern am glândeal, morc'h am fhean aiesin. My glare will pierce through the darkness, my brightness scatter the shadow."

The man drew back his fist to strike the elf again but gasped as a figure blinked into existence, right before their very eyes. Or had he always been there? He had the appearance of a lithe, middle-aged man with greying hair and noble features, clad in simple garments with a black cloak about his slim shoulders. In addition, the air around them was then filled with an herbaceous, earthy scent.

"By the Flame you reek!" the man said and the others erupted into laughter, clearly not threatened by the solitary, unarmed figure before them. "What were you, their cook?"

Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy did not smile at them with pursed lips, as was his custom. Rather, the ancient man looked up and locked eyes with the leader, freezing him place. He then showed them all what it meant to piss off a five hundred year old higher vampire who had had quite enough of human bigotry fueled by religion.

* * *

Root ran as fast as she could but the cumbersome armor was holding her back rather than helping. She stopped and hastily undressed before smoothly shifting into her beast form. The werewolf then quickly scraped a hole in the dirt, shoved the clothing into it and buried them just in case anyone was pursuing, looking for clues. She then raced after the carts, easily catching up with them.

"Bleidd beanna!" Cera called, pointing, and Valonna glanced over as the giant wolf dashed by.

"Hush, Cera." The mother said, but sighed with relief, grateful to see the mighty figure.

The bard saw something out of the corner of his eye, but straightaway recognized the lupine form that gracefully leapt to the driver's seat and transitioned back into a woman.

"Where's Regis and Errol?" he asked, giving the team another tap of the reigns.

Root looked over; her green eyes a mix of fear and anger.

"It's the cultists." She said softly. "Those damn eternally flaming people, or whatever, that Geralt and I encountered in the woods."

"What?" Dandelion exclaimed.

"This Cahir person said he had other news and that was it. They were coming for us. But…" her voice broke, filled with emotion. "Geralt and Regis both kept it from me!"

The bard knew that if both the Witcher and Emiel Regis kept something from Root that it was important. But he easily guessed why, as the woman next to him was practically eating herself alive with guilt. Something he had seen Geralt do loads of times.

"They stayed behind to fight them off. Oh, Dandelion…it's just them against…against…"

"Hold it together, Roo." The bard said, nudging her shoulder. "Hey look, Regis is a match for like at least fifty thousand men, alright? They will be fine. Now which way do we go?"

The road they were on came to a fork and the company reigned in their carts. The silence of the deep woods settled over them. Root stood on the seat and listened. All was still and silent, save for the winter wind soughing through the pines. No sound of pursuit.

"Grab me the map under the seat, D." she whispered. "Val, are you all alright over there?"

"Yes. A little shaken but we are fine. Errol is with the healer?" she asked.

"He is. OK, we have to risk some light. Is that box of matches in the…yes right there, next to Regis' pipe." Root said, striking a light.

"Do you want me to grab you some clothes from the back? It's cold out." Dandelion asked the bare-skinned woman.

"I'm fine. I'm not familiar with this area. Where are we?" she asked, sitting next to him.

"Let's see, OK there's Oxenfurt and we're south of there so…ah here's the Simpa! Where we just were and crossed. I'd say we're…here, right at this fork." He said, striking another match.

"Looks like if we go left it heads deeper into these woods and towards the big city. And if we go right well, it looks like there could be a passage into the valley. Once in we could just follow the river north and, look there's Kaer Morhen."

Dandelion nodded. "Being that we've most likely royally pissed off any local authorities and the church, I'd say avoiding cities is the best plan. Do we travel through the night, Roo? Your call. It's bloody dark, but I think we can manage."

"I think we should. If we can get into the valley maybe we can find a sheltered spot to camp and wait. I think any pursuers would assume we would head straight into the deep forest, looking to hide. Let's press on." Root said and folded the map. "Val, follow the wolf woman."

Root leapt from the seat, fluidly shifting and trotted in front of the carts, leading their little band in the direction of the massive waterfall that poured from the mighty mountains.


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56 (This is a long one, friends. Thanks for staying with me!)

As morning dawned, every man wearing the sigil of the flaming rose lay dead on the bank of the river, each of them with an opened throat and a look of utter shock frozen on their faces. Errol lay in an enchanted sleep next to a fire and the vampire dearly wished he had his tea kettle. He had bound the elf's wounds as best as he could, but without knitbone, the jaw would be horribly disfigured, his face scarred for life. Hearing the swift approach of hooves, Regis looked up and saw the Witcher reign in the mare that shivered and frothed, chomping her bit. He slid from the saddle as the company followed suit.

"Where…"

"Safe." Regis replied quietly. "She, Dandelion, Valonna and the children are together."

Geralt gripped his friend's shoulder and the vampire nodded.

"Your work I take it?" the Witcher said, motioning to the bodies.

"Indeed."

"So you're immune to silver then too I take it?" Geralt said with a slight smirk.

"Of course not. Don't be silly." The vampire replied, his dark eyes shining. "It has to actually touch me to be effective though."

"But another matter is more pressing." He continued. "Errol desperately needs a better place to recover and our little band has no protection in this wild country. We need to catch up with them. Oh, and Geralt?"

The Witcher knew, with one look into the vampires' eyes, exactly what he was going to say.

"We were right. She immediately blamed herself. I cannot even imagine how she will feel when she sees the shape poor Errol is in." Regis said.

"We can't worry about that now." Geralt said. "Can you ride with the Speaker?"

"I can." Regis said, kicking sand into the small fire. "But first, what happened? How did those fanatics catch up to us? And where were you all?"

"We were…tricked." The Witcher said, shooting a baleful glare at the Nilfgaardian. "We'll talk about it later. Do you know where they're at?"

Regis closed his eyes and connected to Root's mind. Seeing through her eyes, he saw the carriage home and the cart parked beside a sheer face of rock, the fur tents pitched in a tight circle with a tiny fire burning for some warmth. Dandelion stood on one side of their camp, while the werewolf guarded the other. Valonna and the children were all sleeping soundly. Near to them, he could hear the rushing of water.

"I think they're already inside the valley, close to the waterfall. But of course I cannot say where exactly. They must have traveled on through the night. Let us go. Help me lift him."

* * *

When noon rolled around, the bard made a quick lunch of cold chicken sandwiches and tea, and brought the meal to them on a large tray.

"I know it's not the best, little ones." He said in his most cheerful voice. "But don't you worry; Deedeelion will make you a hot meal as soon as we get to our next camping spot OK? Promise."

"Where Gwynbleidd?" Cera asked, shoving a piece of meat into her hungry mouth. "Where Speaker? They come soon?"

The poet looked up at Root, who had turned from her vigil, hearing the concern in the little girls' voice. He had to admit, Root looked good in his clothes, as it was all he could quickly grab from a knapsack for her to wear. A black and white checked undershirt with a deep burgundy short coat, black pants and knee high soft riding boots and matching gloves completed the look.

"They'll be along as soon as they can, kids. And look. You see that shape way in the distance? That is a great castle and we are going to it. There will be warm beds, warm fires and warm hallways to play in. Won't that be nice?" Root said cheerfully, masking her pain and heartache.

"Yay!" they all exclaimed. "Like a real castle, bleidd beanna?"

"A witcher castle!" she said and they all gasped as one, wonder filling their eyes.

"There are more witchers than Gwynbleidd?" Cera asked innocently.

Because of course in the minds of most people, especially elven children, there was only one man who epitomized the profession of the witcher; the great White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.

* * *

After they'd crossed the river, Regis caught Root's scent on the road.

"That can't be right." He muttered and glanced over to the Witcher. "Do you smell that?"

Geralt dismounted and the party reigned up behind he and the vampires' mounts. Regis held the Speaker securely against his chest, keeping the man deeply asleep and free of pain. The Witcher cast his keen eyes over the ground and spotted a patch of dirt on the road that had recently been disturbed. And there were large paw prints leading away. He crouched and shifted some of the soil, seeing a patch of cloth. Tugging it free, Geralt held the long sleeved studded leather coat in his hands.

"Clever woman." He said with a smile. "She ditched the clothes and armor to shift and had the sense to hide them in case they were being pursued. Come on, this way."

* * *

"No, no Valonna, don't even think on it. You and the kids get some sleep. Me and D got this. We're fine. Aren't we, Dandelion?" Root said.

"Right as rain, mi'lady. Sweet dreams, kiddos." He said, blowing the children a kiss.

The elven woman nodded her head, resigned, although she wanted to help in taking a shift at watching. She was eager to see Errol, becoming very worried, as they all were, by the hour.

"Very well. See you in the morning."

Dandelion tossed on a few more bits of kindling to keep the little fire going, but they dared not risk anything larger. Neither of them knew what kind of people, animals or beasts lie within the valley and nor did they wish to find out by announcing their presence with a bonfire. He and Root stood together as the darkness grew around them.

"What I'd give for a pot of coffee right now." Dandelion said quietly with a stretch. "You holding up?"

"Yeah." She replied in a whisper. "I'm good, D. Thanks."

But the bard could tell that she wasn't. Root's eyes had black shadows beneath them and he knew her thoughts were racing constantly, although she never said a word to anyone about it throughout the whole night, day and now into another night.

 _Root, can you hear me?_

The woman was startled, hearing Regis' voice in her mind. The bard looked at her strangely, his eyebrow rising as she looked around.

"I…I can…yes…" she replied outloud.

"Uhh, Root? What's up?" he asked, lightly holding her shoulder.

 _Where are you from the valley entrance? Which way?_

The wild woman heard the sound of hooves and the huffing of several horses.

"Here!" she cried. "We're here!"

Root ran off into the woods, leaving Dandelion standing in a stupor but keen enough to know that he should stay put with the carriages.

Geralt turned and saw her racing toward them through the trees, her eyes widening when she saw that it wasn't just Regis and Errol, but the whole company, including himself, Vernon Roche, the elves and soldiers. Cahir rode up next to the vampire and took the resting body of the Speaker from him.

Regis dismounted and was mauled by Root who began kissing all over his face, crying her heart out.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry…" she bawled at him, her body shaking. "I…I…"

"Shhhh, my love, you're alright now." He said, holding her tightly. "I'm here. We're here."

"I thought…I thought I'd…oh gods, my Regis…." She cried, holding him tightly.

"I know. I'm fine, my love. Goodness how wonderful it feels to know you love me so much!" he said, hugging her warmly. "Sh sh sh, there now."

Geralt slid from his horse as well, motioning to the others to head in the direction of the camp, which they could see now, spying the tiny fire. The Witcher glared at the Nilfgaardian as he passed, not pleased about him holding the bruised body of the elven leader, but decided to let it be for the moment.

"Geralt!" she cried and leapt into his arms.

"My goodness, Root, we're fine." He said in his deep voice, stroking her back. "I had one fight, well not even, with a…never mind."

"Are we safe? What…what happened?" she asked. "What do you mean one fight? How…how can that be?"

"We'll get to all of that another time." Geralt said quietly. "Dandelion and the kids are doing ok?"

She nodded, wiped her eyes and composed herself. "Yes; a little more hungry than usual since we dared not tarry long to make large meals but, yes they're fine."

"Good work, my wild woman." Geralt said, kissing her forehead. "Come on."

The reunion of Valonna and the Speaker was emotional to witness. The elven woman barely contained her grief, and her body shook as she received his broken and bruised form.

"Oh, me minne." She said, her tears falling on his face as she kissed his brow. "Look what they've done to you."

Regis gave her a variety of healing herbs to administer on a regular basis once Errol woke. But for the remainder of the night, he would rest in profound, enchanted sleep.

Everyone was exhausted from the hours of riding and worrying over the welfare of their loved ones or friends. And when the tents had finally all been unpacked and set up, it was already rolling into the deep night. Root swayed on her feet, her vision blurred and she was seeing tiny black spots before her eyes. Vernon saw her standing watch, looking out into the forest, not really knowing what to do with herself. She felt too wound up with a thousand different thoughts and emotions to sleep.

"Hey." He said softly, touching her shoulder. "Why don't you rest?"

Root turned and hugged him, surprising the Viziman, but he embraced her in kind.

"Well, that was unexpected" he said quietly. "But not unwelcome."

"Oh, Vernon. Your homeland." She said, gazing into his pale blue eyes. "I'm so sorry."

The commander was moved by her compassion.

"Thank you, Root." He said. "It looks like I'll be staying with you all for a while longer I suppose. I hope you'll forgive me if I'm a little unsociable for a time. Good night."

Root left the Commander, who went into his tent, and joined the Witcher and Emiel Regis at the second fire they'd built behind the carriage home. But first she'd gone and retrieved the steel sword from Roach's saddleflap, and handed it over to Geralt.

"Did you need it?" he asked.

"No." she said, rubbing her eyes. "But I was happy to carry it all the same. Where's Dandelion?"

"Making a space in the carriage. Come on, my love." Regis said, rising from his seat at the fire.

"No, I'm fine. I can stay up a little more." She replied.

Regis gave Geralt an amused look, as both of them could tell the woman was just about walking in her sleep.

"Is it safe to be here, Geralt?" Root asked, stumbling slightly. "Are there monsters we should watch for?"

The White Wolf grinned and shook his head.

"This is a witcher's valley, Root. What do you think?" he replied. "Not only that, but this is the valley I grew up in. I know its every nook and turn, every plant, every animal, everything about this place. The only threats here are the men who live in the keep, and they are not our enemies. So that means you can go to sleep."

Stubbornly she shook her head while the vampire held her up, leaning her against his chest.

"But, Geralt, you haven't slept either and neither have the others. It's not…it's…"

"They will shortly, Root." The warrior replied. "We're used to days without sleep. You're not. Go. To. Bed. Right now."

"Okay, okay…" she muttered and he kissed right between her eyes, making her blink slowly, her eyelids barely being able to open. "Good night, my gorgeous witcher."

Dandelion jumped down from the back of the carriage home bedroom, looking like shit and exhausted himself, but he smiled at Regis, clapping him on the shoulder.

"It's a little crowded with a lot of the supplies still in there but there's room for you and she. Geralt will have to tent it for tonight." He said.

"Good night, D…" Root muttered, nearly asleep.

"Thank you, Dandelion. Get some rest yourself." Regis said, helping Root get up into the carriage."

Root crawled into the blankets as Regis latched the flap shut, wreathing them in soft, comfortable darkness. He lay down beside her and she nestled right up against his chest, falling asleep almost immediately, soothed by the scent of the forest, woodsmoke, basil, wormwood and sage.

A few hours later, all but Emiel Regis and the Witcher had to gone to sleep, exhausted from the tension and hard riding. The two old friends sat beside the carriage home and their fire, one enjoying a pot of herbal tea, the other staring out into the woods, his keen eyes always watching, and his ears always listening.

"Well, Geralt, it would seem we will not be able to enter into Redania any time soon. With King Radovid being one of the most bigoted men living today, and a devout follower of the Eternal Fire, Oxenfurt and Novigrad are definitely out of our reach as far as places to visit or resupply." Regis said, lighting his pipe. "Oh, that is so nice. Ahh, poor Dandelion. If he could've known what would happen to us all along the way, I wonder if he would've opted to join us."

The Witcher nodded. "Not to mention that any traveling preachers will have been informed about the incident. Shit, I wouldn't be surprised if Radovid himself didn't give the order to hunt Root down. And remember, Dandelion didn't get a choice. Foltest kicked him out."

"True. Gods rest good King Foltest. And you know…" Regis began, pondering. "What if we had wintered at the palace? What if Arklan hadn't been pursuing Root? Geralt, I just realized this but it is quite possible we would all be prisoners of the Imperator right now. Well, our man Vernon would be bound for the noose to be sure. However, the rest of us would have been captured if not outright killed. Isn't it odd how things have moved us all along just when we needed to be?"

The effort it took to not roll his eyes was colossal, because Geralt did not believe in such nonsense as divine providence, or specially blessed and guided chosen ones. He trusted in his blades and in his own mind and morals, no one elses. And he thought everyone else should to. However, the wise and well-traveled witcher knew that of course other people did believe as such; his beloved Root for one, with her folk charms and devotion to a leshan. And it would seem both Regis and Dandelion had some modicum of belief in the spirits or gods said to be guiding the world and it's events. Yet he did have to concede that it was very timely when Vernon Roche had showed up with supplies from the once sovereign of Temeria. He rubbed the stubble on his face, reminding him again that he was looking more and more like Geralt the Hobo each day he went without a proper shave.

"You know I don't buy into that shit, Regis. However, I will say this. Roche came to us with a goodly amount of supplies and with orders to help us. I wonder if Foltest knew. Surely, his scouts would have seen the Nilfgaardians in the woods. I mean, Root saw them pass through the tiny hamlet she lived near. She said it was a few weeks before she and I met. Curiously, she said the soldiers simply passed through after watering their horses, even purchasing supplies, such as they are, from the broken down town and its dirt-poor merchants. What kind of man spends hard earned coin in a hovel when going to war?"

"The kind who understands that such people are not a threat; who knows that said people are more concerned with bread for their bellies and healing herbs for their wounds; the kind who understands that an economic plan can win hearts and loyalty." Regis said solemnly. "And that is a curious thought about what Foltest may have known. He knew he himself could not run, nor would he. The lord of Vizima was not known for such tactics, but nor was he a fool. It would seem, perhaps, that he sent his best to us in order that Roche may live and maybe one day restore the lillies of Temeria over the Black Sun of Nilfgaard."

"Nilfgaard isn't as bad as you all seem to believe." Came the voice of Cahir Mawr as he walked up to the fire.

The man of Vicovaro was dressed in simple winter clothing, a fur trimmed linen cloak draped about his shoulders for warmth, with leather gloves.

"Get out of my sight." growled the Witcher, turning his wrath-filled eyes onto the man. "You're lucky I let you stay, Cahir. All of this is your fault."

"Is it?" he retorted, his steel eyes holding the Witchers' stare. "I seem to recall it was one werewolf traveling amongst you who humiliated a man of the cloth from Redania; prompting the response of King Radovid."

The tone of the response dripped with sarcasm. And while Regis knew the Nilfgaardian and Geralt never really got along, he found Cahir's reply a little too pointed and venomous. He watched the man closely.

"Because they attacked Errol!" Geralt spat fiercely. "Because they led a pogrom against the aen seidhe living around Bald Mountain and killed most of them! Those you see with us are all that remain, Cahir. Because she had the guts to stand up to their bigotry…"

"And that almost cost you dearly didn't it? Oh, such bravery. Shall I go and pat her on the head and give her a, "Good doggy" and a bone? Look, if you wish to fault someone for why a band of religious fanatics attacked you, blame the woman you call Root. Yes. True. I overheard them, and yes it would seem they did that deliberately. But the fact remains that I came to warn you, Geralt. I could've left it alone. And where would you be now, eh? Probably stewing in Vizima's dungeons, your friends along with you or dead. And Vernon Roche would be swaying from the walls as an example to those who resist Imperator Emhyr var Emreis. So go ahead, Vatt'ghern. Blame me if you fucking need to in order to make yourself feel better. But it's pretty damn obvious who is truly to blame."

Geralt's golden eyes were flashing with rage and he rose, his fists and jaw clenched.

"And what would you have done, Cahir?" Regis replied, his voice very quiet, his anger barely contained, much like the Witchers' own. "Hmm? Let one of your party members just die in the cold because they didn't return to camp? Or if you'd gone after them, only to discover him being beaten at the hands of bigots, leave him to his fate because well hey, wouldn't want to ruffle any feathers here? Is that something Nilfgaard teaches its sons and daughters; to not rise up and act in the face of such things; to just lie down and take it? Well, if so, then you'll excuse me for not wanting the banners of the so-called Great Sun waving all over our lands."

"Oh come off it, Regis. You always try and sound like you're so much smarter than everyone else. You're such an arrogant pri…"

But the man never finished his sentence. For Roche had thrust a lily-pommeled dirk right between the ribs and cleaved the man's heart, killing him instantly. And they heard no more from Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach of Vicovaro.

In the carriage home, Root buried her face into the pillows to stifle her sobs. She had overheard everything Cahir had said and internalized every word.

"Roche! What the…?" Geralt said as the body of Cahir dropped to the ground with a thud.

But the Viziman simply handed the Witcher a rolled piece of parchment, with the broken waxen seal of the Great Sun, and remained silent.

\- To: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach of Vicovaro, Nilfgaard

Be it known to you the decree of his imperial highness, Imperator Emhyr var Emreis, the White Flame Dancing on the Grave of His Enemy, hereafter known as Imperator, long may he reign. Your past failures in the service of his majesty have been well noted and repeated back to you endlessly. We are certain that as a good citizen of Nilfgaard you wish only to rectify these failures and please your sovereign, the Imperator. We are aware that the previous ruler of Temeria, King Foltest of Vizima, has sent his commander of special forces, Vernon Roche, to a company of travelers led by the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia. You are to eliminate this man the moment you are able without alerting the rest of the party. As proof of the death, bring his badge of office and know the merciful pardon of our gracious ruler.

Also let it be known that it has reached our glorious sovereign's ears that King Radovid, known as the Stern, of Redania has placed a death sentence on the werewolf witch who travels with Geralt; for the crime of attacking a man of the faith. Whilst Nilfgaard and Redania have little love for each other, the Imperator will not risk Radovid's forces invading any further into once Temerian, now Nilfgaardian, territory than they already have in order to hunt her down. Thus, as an olive branch extended to the king of Redania, you are also to help eliminate the werewolf and bring her head as proof. Meet up with their forces in the Bald Mountain forest region. As for Geralt, your previous dealings with him are known and his highness is fully aware that you will not be able to kill or capture him. We are confident that with the death of the werewolf, Radovid will be pleased to let the Witcher be. Carry out these commands and escape the Witcher, returning to the palace of Vizima with both proofs and know that all past failures will be forgiven and you'll be placed into a worthy position from which you can hope to once again rise through the ranks of our great military and society. –

"That…how did…" Geralt was trembling, the rage emenating from his person like furnace, handing the letter to Regis.

"I never trusted his story." Roche said softly, wiping the blade clean. "I just found that in his saddlebags. With the fanatics put down, I'm sure he thought we would relax and let down our guard."

"So he knew all along. He didn't overhear them; it was a plot involving all of them." Regis said shaking his head. "They must've known we have the elves with us and counted on you mounting an offense against them once Cahir had brought the news. Protecting them being part of the contract details and all; and then using that chance to send their force against us while you took the bait."

"And gave them two martyrs. Oh, the things I'm sure Radovid promised them for their next life." Vernon said, sliding the blade into its ornate sheath. "However, he's going to be even more paranoid when he learns this deal fell through and that that group of the faithful was wiped out. We all know who did it, but they're going to blame Root and possibly Geralt."

"Well, and you, Vernon." Regis said. "You're a wanted man now."

Vernon Roche looked into the fire, his blue eyes burning hot with the desire for revenge. Yet he knew he alone was no match for all of Nilfgaard.

"I was already sentenced to death before that happened it would seem. So they blame me. So what?" he said softly.

"Vernon, listen…" Geralt said. "You're going to have to order your men to not fly Temerian heraldry or Viziman colors. Same goes for you. Look I get it, you're fucking pissed. But like it or not those colors are now outlawed. The lillies of Temeria will be taken down all over that land and replaced with the Sun. If anyone sees those colors or sigil flying, they're going to know who you are, or at least wager a good guess."

"I understand, Geralt. And of course it would be a danger to you and your company. Which I too feel responsible for since his maj…since his majesty's last order to me was to aid you and those with you. I'll have everything burned by morning. I hope your allies in the keep can spare some new armor though." Vernon said quietly.

"It's a school for witchers. Do we have armor he asks." Geralt said, rolling his eyes. "Of course."

"Well, I suppose we better bury this man." Regis said with a sigh. "You know I was fond of Cahir if I'm honest. But I always wondered if perhaps his desire to redeem himself would win over his desire for friendship or love."

"You'll excuse me if I refuse to touch that filth." Roche said. "I'll go round up everything we and the soldiers have that marks us."


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

When sunlight finally broke over the Morhen valley, it was much later than usual, the great mountains keeping the rising sun from their small camp until almost mid-morning. Emiel Regis and Geralt stayed up to bury the body of the traitor Cahir Mawr, while Roche and his men tossed the last of their livery, heraldry and Temerian symbolism into the fires. They were all extremely exhausted as midday approached, so the Witcher finally let himself rest by leaning his back against a tree stump, shutting his eyes. The vampire, not really needing sleep, began cooking a good meal for the elven children who were up and playing nearby. Dandelion stretched as he walked over and grabbed the percolater from the storage.

"Fuck, I feel like shit." He said. "What a crazy couple of nights it's been. I uh, I overheard your argument with Cahir. And the uh…altercation that took place. It would seem things were pretty grim."

"We just have to vanish for a while is all." Regis said quietly. "Once they realize they cannot find us, these men with their foolish war games will move onto something else. And while it pains me to think of those who will suffer under their rule, there is nothing we can do. None of us is heroes, Dandelion. Well, Geralt perhaps but it would seem he's wanted too. Hopefully this Vesemir will receive us with kindness. From what I understand, Kaedwen has so far resisted Nilfgaardian invasion, as has Redania. Radovid may have worked with Emhyr to get at Root, but the man is never going to ally with the Imperator. Speaking of which, would you check on her?"

"Can do." The bard said. "Roo? You awake?"

Regis set the percolater onto the fire grate and wiped his hands on a towel. It was a lovely winter morning, with the bright sun shining and growing warmer and warmer each day. The snow draping the lush pine forest began to drip and below the trees, the master herbalist could sense that the plants sleeping in the frozen ground were making their way to the surface, eager for the suns rays.

"Um, Regis?" the poet called. "You need to see this."

"Ugh, what is it now?" Geralt grumbled, hearing the bard's shrill voice go up a few notches.

Dandelion hopped down from the back and handed Emiel the hastily written note:

\- My dearest loves and friends,

What Cahir said cannot be disputed. It is because of me that all of you were placed in danger. I shall go then and turn myself over to the authorities and hope that they will be satisfied and leave you all in peace. Please forgive me for hurting you. It breaks my heart to write this. I love you all so much.

Your wild woman,

\- Root Selithlene Godefroy-Wolf

"Geralt!" Regis called out and the Witcher, who growled in annoyance, got up and walked over, rubbing his neck.

"What now?" he said, taking the note and scanning it.

"That foolish, silly woman! ROOT! GET BACK HERE!" he hollared, his voice echoing off the mountains as he crushed the parchment in his fist.

"What is she thinking?!" Dandelion asked. "That's not going to help! That Radovid fellow is a racist, fear driven religious nutter. Men like him don't listen to reason. He's going to kill her, that's what."

"Root doesn't know that. She doesn't know anything about this kind of stuff; politics, religion, none of it. She thinks the world is simple; that if she says she's sorry and pays the penalty that all is well. Nor does she know about Cahir being a traitor. Her note seems to indicate that she heard his argument with Geralt but nothing more." Regis sighed heavily. "She must've slipped out shortly after."

"And she knew you wouldn't be minding her thoughts, thinking she was sleeping." Geralt said, strapping on his armor. "Root is fast in were-form. How far is she?"

Emiel Regis closed his eyes and connected to her mind; hearing the thudding of her paws on the ground and seeing the forest pass by in a blur as she ran. But her thoughts were an absolute mess of sorrow as she ate herself up over thinking she'd put them in danger, and over having to leave them, which was causing physical pain in her chest. Plus, the vampire noted that her energy level was very low and she was thus energetically starving.

"She'll reach the river crossing in just another hour or so." He said, keeping his eyes closed. "I can drop her into sleep but she'll be on the road, exposed to anyone who may happen by."

"Stop her, Regis." Geralt said, strapping on his swords. "Dominate her mind if you have to. If she's seen by anyone she's a dead woman."

"Roach, to me!" Geralt called and whistled to the old mare that cantered over to him.

 _Root, I know you can hear me. You're wrong about what Cahir said._

He felt hesitation in her thoughts, a pause.

 _You have to stop, my love. You don't understand how these men work._

But the vampire felt her try and push back at him. And it actually made him smile.

 _Root Selithlene Godefroy-Wolf, I'm sorry to do this but you will obey._

Regis subdued her will under his mighty power and forced her to stop. He could feel her lupine body heaving, gasping for breath, running on pure adrenaline, but her mind was still and blank, docile.

 _Good. Now turn around and start walking back toward the valley. We're coming._

The vampire opened his eyes and nodded to the Witcher, mounting Roche's stallion.

"Mind the camp. We'll be back by nightfall." Geralt said and he and the vampire galloped off toward the valley entrance.

As the sun started its descent, the two men saw the huge brown furred werewolf walking down the road toward them, head down, one paw after another plodding along in a mindless way, led by the command of the master vampire. They both reigned up their horses.

"We should be grateful we're in the middle of no where. It would seem no one saw her." Regis said as they dismounted. "Root, hear me."

The werewolf stopped and looked up into his dark eyes.

"No, put her out." Geralt growled. "I can't listen to her shit right now. I need to get some food and sleep first."

"Geralt, that is immensely unkind and…"

"Just do it." The Witcher said. "Please?"

"Very well." Regis said, and, turning to her, gazed deeply into her eyes. "Dearme, me minne."

The woman dropped into deep sleep, her werewolf form melting away, and Regis caught her in his arms before she fell to the dirt. Geralt came and wrapped his heavy black cloak over her body.

"What was she going to do? Stroll in naked as the day she was born into Radovid's chambers and say, "Forgive me, your majesty. Here I am to get my punishment."? Seriously, Root. We ride off to save you from zealots. Ride back exhausted to find you. And you run away?" Geralt said and softly carressed her cheek. "Silly woman. Alright, let's go."

They arrived back at camp just as Dandelion and Vernon Roche had finished making an enormous supper of beef barley soup, golden fried white fish filets, mashed potatoes, bread with butter and a generous side of vegetables. Roche nodded at them, having read the note and hearing what had happened from Dandelion.

"What did she say?" the Commander asked.

"Nothing as of yet." Geralt said, dismounting and taking Root from Regis. "Nor will she for a bit. I need to eat and sleep before I hear any of her whining about…just…there's only so much nonsense I can handle in a day."

"Understood. Supper is ready, lots of it, Wolf. Eat up."

Geralt climbed up into the carriage and laid Root down on the bed. He then grabbed a pair of pajamas from the drawer and got her dressed, covering her up in the warm woolen blankets.

"Geralt?" Dandelion said, and handed in a loaded plate of food for the hunter.

"Thanks, Dandelion."

The Witcher devoured his meal and when done, stripped off his armor and crawled into bed next to his wild woman. He kissed her forehead and trailed his fingers over her ear, watching her sleep in the shadowy darkness of the carriage. He'd been so angry earlier, and while he was still annoyed by Root's behavior, Geralt could only express his relief as she lay in his arms. She was alive.

"You're so naïve, so innocent." He said softly. "I'm so very glad we met. For had I not taken you from those woods, the woods that are now burning under the banner of Nilfgaard, who knows what may have happened to you? You've made me think of this world in such a different way, Root. I don't know if you can hear me in this vampire sleep but, you've been so good for me. For all of us. Just look at the change in Errol because of your kindness. Not to mention he's alive because of you. And you blame yourself for the retaliation of zealots? You're a monumentally frustrating woman at times do you know that?"

The Witcher yawned and pulled her to his chest, wishing that he could feel her fingers fidget the way they would when she'd fall asleep with him. But sleep claimed the exhausted hunter as he held her hands, rested his forehead against hers and began to snore.

Geralt and Root slept through the night and late into the following morning, which left Regis, Roche and Dandelion minding the camp with the elven sentries and soldiers. Errol woke that morning in great pain, but he refused any relief, wanting to simply get up and walk around the woods. So he and Valonna spent a good measure of the morning taking a stroll through the area with the children, always keeping the camp in sight.

"Hey, Regis." The bard said, walking up and taking a seat at the fire. "We're low on our water stores. And the river is at least a good several hours walk away. Any thoughts?"

"Plenty of snow about still. Gather some up and we'll melt it and boil it. It'll have to do for now." The vampire said.

"You're not going to blame yourself for drinking too much tea?" Roche said. "Women sometimes, I tell ya."

Emiel Regis shot Vernon a dirty look and the Viziman put his hands up.

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry." He said. "But come on; that was rather stupid of her. Plus, don't you feel bad that she was willing to leave you over that?"

Regis shook his head. "No. She was willing to leave because she loves me. And, if you read her note, because she loves all of us. In her mind, it was selfish of her to stay, wanting to be the recipient of our love. And Root isn't prone to acts of selfishness. Naïvete? Yes. A little foolish at times? Sure. But she has a giving heart and it pained her, physically, to run from us. I could feel it when I connected with her. She left, well tried to, out of love and devotion for her friends and erm…husbands, mates. Nothing is stupid about that."

Vernon Roche was silent for a long time, gazing into the fire as the percolater started to bubble away on the grate and Geralt finally climbed down from the carriage.

"Good morning, White Wolf." Regis said.

"Coffee first." The Witcher said, raising his hand. "Then you can wake her."

Regis smiled, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

"Didn't any of you think to make breakfast?" Geralt asked, sipping the glorious black brew. "Oh, oh how I need this."

"Hey, Dandelion and I made dinner last night." Roche said with a smirk. "Ask master mind control over here…"

"Whatever, just…Dandelion, go make food. Have the kids eaten yet? Where in the sod is Errol? What is he doing?" the Witcher grumbled, seeing the elves walking in the distance.

"I would wager that our elven Speaker takes much solace from the deep forest we find ourselves in. And wishes to soothe his wounds, both inside and out, by walking among the trees." Regis explained.

The bard got up and obediently shuffled over to the kitchen area and started cracking eggs into the cast iron skillets, with Vernon rolling his eyes and following shortly thereafter. When a big meal of eggs, sausage, thick cut maple bacon and biscuits had been plated up and served to all the company, Geralt looked at Regis.

"Now wake her." He said.

"Now?" Regis replied. "But she'll feel very awkward."

"Yes, now. That's the point." Geralt said, shoveling more food into his mouth.

The vampire closed his eyes. And then a few minutes later they saw Root poke her head out of the carriage, looking very confused, seeing them all seated together eating as if nothing in the entire world was amiss. Geralt had reserved a large portion of food for her and he pointed at the tree stump between he and Regis, handing her the plate without a word when she sat down.

The woman looked over to Regis who simply smiled back at her in his usual way, but remained silent. Root ate slowly and quietly, keeping her gaze on the ground because it hurt to look at poor Errol's bruised face. When done, she went to get up but Geralt gently pulled her back down to the seat, took her plate and handed it over to the bard.

"Sit there and be quiet." Geralt said softly, handing her a cup of tea.

"But…"

Geralt's stern golden gaze silenced any question she had. Wrapping her hands around the cup, the forest maiden remained quiet as told. When the bard had cleaned up everyone's plates, the children and Valonna went off for a bit of exercise and play before naptime. Leaving Root seated by Geralt, Regis, Dandelion, Vernon and Errol.

"Show her the letter." Geralt said, nodding to Roche.

Root unrolled the scroll and read the decree from Emperor Emhyr. When done, she lowered it and looked over at Geralt.

"Oh." She muttered, lightly biting her lip.

"Yeah. Oh." Geralt said in reply. "Now you listen to me, Root. Radovid wound up those zealots and then Emhyr sent Cahir to work with them so he could strike at you and Vernon both; under the guise of him warning us. But he was always the true danger. Emhyr knows a band of fanatics is no match for a seasoned witcher, especially one with elven marksmen, Temerian soldiers and the commander of the Blue Stripes with him. He knew they'd be wiped out as did the king of Redania, counting them as glorious martyrs. Meanwhile, none of us would be looking at the real threat in our midst. Yes, Root, you humiliated a leader of the Flaming Rose. So what? You saved Errols' life! And then mine. And so now you ran from us because two rulers, one crazed with religion and fear and the other just wanting more power, manipulated situations in order to benefit themselves and their personal agendas."

"I…I don't understand why…"

"That's right." Geralt said cutting her off. "You don't understand, Root. But we do. Some of us sure wish we didn't. But we do."

"My dear," Regis said softly, taking her hand. "No one faults you for how you grew up. But as with your ignorance about your powers, you don't know the kind of machinations that these men of power can come up with. You promised us, no more hiding these kinds of thoughts. Remember?"

"Besides, Roo, people are going to hate you and retaliate against you for doing the right thing for the rest of your life. Yeah, I know there's a big ethics debate over what the right thing is. But I think everyone is in agreement that saving the life of a company member and, by the way, sparing and not killing the attacker, is pretty noble. I mean from what I understand you scared the shit out of that fanatic. I bet he thought twice about crossing you ever again. And it was only when his liege lord told him to get back at it that he opted to do so." The bard said, crouching beside her with a friendly hand on the shoulder.

"But…but it is true that this Radovid was prompted to retaliate because of me, right?" she asked.

"Fleidd beanna," Errol began, his speech impaired because of his jaw. "Shhealots like phat are going to attack ufs, all of ufs, anyfays. Fay led a pogrom against my feeple and vee did nothing foo dem. Phats how vey are. And vats not your fault. And I foolishly alvost vecame like fem, out of fear. And you changed me, Root."

Root wiped her eyes and sniffed.

"Aww fay, we're even now, eh? You faved me from feezing, I covered you and Val's retreat wiff da kids. Your feet; my face. We're good." He said, trying to smile.

"Oh, yeeach, Speaker, don't do that again." Roche said, putting a hand on the elf's shoulder and the men all laughed lightly, with Root breaking a smile.

"The world is far more complex than a simple life in the woods, Root." Geralt said, putting his arm around her. "And thank goodness we have Regis here to stop you if you decide to get any more crazy ideas in that head of yours."

Root looked over to her mate and the look in his dark eyes made the woman's tummy knot and her toes curl.

"I'll be keeping a more careful watch on your thoughts for some time, me minne." He said softly. "I am sorry that I had to force you to obey."

"Well, don't be too sorry, Regis." Dandelion said with a wink. "She loves that."

Root flushed crimson from the tips of her ears to the very bottoms of her toes and she shyly look up at the vampire and then her witcher. Errol just looked confused and shrugged it off. But the look in Vernon Roche's eyes was the best of all, as the bard confirmed what he'd figured out the other night.

"Yes, thank you, Dandelion. I didn't know." The vampire sarcastically with a sigh. "Now, I think we've schooled her enough on this, yes Geralt? Let us get to gathering up snow to purify for water and figure out our path to the keep."

"No more." Geralt said, touching her nose with his finger. "You're going to make this hair whiter than it already is if you keep it up."

"I promise." She said. "Upon my fathers' grave. I promise."


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Root spent the day working extra hard at all the chores that needed to be done around their new base camp. Single-handedly, refusing any help, she unloaded the carriage so that she could turn out the blankets and their furs, letting them air out in the warming winter air. After reading the decree and having various things explained to her, the forest maiden felt immensely foolish for what she'd done. And it reminded her too of the silly feeling she had talking about the White One with Geralt. For the first time in her life, Root began to falter in her faith, her own beliefs when it came to the world and how it worked. But then no one had ever challenged her on any of it either, having lived alone for so long. In a way, she could almost understand why the religious fanatics would get so angry. She herself didn't like the feeling of not being sure, of suddenly being cast adrift into a wide world without an anchor. And without realizing it, Root had paused in her work, leaned on the carriage and held one of the furs, trembling.

"You're all right." Said the soft voice of Emiel Regis as he came to her and hugged her from behind. "Calm, me minne. Still your thoughts. You're winding yourself up."

Regis nuzzled her neck and kissed her shoulder.

"I'm here. I'm your anchor, my love. I will always hold you safe and on a good course. You just need to let me help."

She relaxed into his embrace as he flooded her thoughts with his. Thoughts of warmth and love, devotion and tenderness for the wild woman of the woods that he'd first seen lying asleep in the back of a cart.

"There now." He said softly, turning her to face him. "You need to feed too, Root. Your energy level is very low."

Root nodded and placed both her hands on his chest, sighing as his strong, powerful energy flowed in. Her skin began to take on the familiar golden glow; and the others around their camp couldn't help but pause in their duties, amazed by the soft radiance that emanated from her. When she opened her eyes and smiled at him, Regis gasped, startling her.

"No, no, keep feeding." He said, holding her hands to his chest.

When the others had gone about their business, Regis lifted her lip and there were short, stubby but very obvious twin fangs where her front teeth should be. When he looked up, he noticed that wasn't the only trait she'd taken on. For her eyes were as dark as his own.

"Oh goodness." He said quietly. "Do you know you're doing that?"

She tilted her head. Root had no idea.

"What do you…ow!" she said and put her fingers into her mouth, breaking off the feed, and prompting a second. "Ow! What in the…"

Both her tongue and her fingers had been cut by the razor sharp fangs in her mouth because the woman had no idea how to live with such things. She tasted blood and looked up to Regis. He took out a handkerchief and dabbed the red from her lips, leading her around to the other side of the wagon so no one could see.

"Keep your tongue down and don't speak for a bit. If it's like the last time, it wears off quickly." He said.

"The last tim…owww…" she said with a pout and Regis held her hands before she could put them in her mouth again.

"It would seem you take on the traits of those you feed from, my dear. Do you recall energy feeding from Geralt? No? Well, when I last gave you a blood feed, Geralt let you drain some of his energy and… your hair began to turn white and your eyes gold! It was truly amazing. And now you've, well, you've taken on my traits. Those things in your mouth are fangs, love. And your eyes are dark like mine. Fascinating!"

Root remained quiet for a bit and Regis checked her mouth a few minutes later. As expected the fangs were gone and her pine green eyes once again looked back at him.

"It fades quickly but that is quite astounding. You're amazing, my dear." He said. "And, I notice you're not nearly as sleepy as you have been in the past when you'd feed. Although this was quite short. Are you feeling better?"

She nodded. "Yes. But…Regis?"

"Yes, Root?"

"You don't want me to hide things so…I know I just fed, erm, blood fed, from you recently but…"

"You're already desirous of it?" he replied softly, carressing her face. "My blood is far more potent than even I realized. Yes. Later though. I will be feeding you more regularly now. But you still amazed me with how long you went without any major symptoms other than cravings."

Root smiled up at him, happy that he was pleased.

"Come. Let us return before we're missed."

On Roche's orders, a few of his soldiers were to station themselves at the entrance to the valley, and to inform him immediately of any approaching riders.

"What if they're flying Temerian colors, sir?" asked his lead scout.

"You send the fastest runner to me, nock a bolt back and fire on my command. Because that won't be one of our boys." The veteran replied, his blue eyes fierce.

"Yes, sir."

Errol agreed with the veterans' thinking and sent two of his finest marksmen along. The others who remained with the camp climbed into the nearby pine trees to get the lay of the land and have an eagle's view should anyone approach their position. The Speaker though leaned heavily against a cart and Regis could see he was suffering.

"Errol, why do you refuse any help with the pain? I can see that it is immense." The barber-surgeon asked. "Are you sure you won't take something?"

Errol did his best to smile and winced, feeling the bones shift.

"Becov I can still use my hanfs and legs. I got beat up vy a vervolf member? Fis if nuffin to that." He replied. "Fank you though, Regis."

"As you wish. If we were near Brokilon we could possibly get some dryadic healing for your jaw. Alas, conynhaela and purple living bone only grow there."

Errol put his hand on Regis' shoulder and nodded.

"I'll beef fine." He said and walked off.

At last, Root got all the bedding put back into the carriage home and tidied it up. With a sigh and a look around, she felt very pleased having their tiny home back in order. She jumped from the back, brushed her hands off and headed for the kitchen, unlatching it for the first time since arriving. As the sun set, casting the mountain valley into shadow much earlier than usual, they lit their fires and got them stoked up nice and high, while the forest maiden prepared a sumptuous feast of roast leg of lamb, pierced and stuffed with garlic and a bouquet from Regis' collection of cooking herbs and spices. She put that in their huge cast iron crock with a generous amount of butter and water to keep it moist and tender, and parked it right into the hottest bed of coals.

"There we go. Now…ah a vegetable to go with it. What goes with lamb? Hmmm…oh these little red potatoes ought to be nice." She said, and set about chopping the redskins into another pan, drenching them too with butter and spices.

Geralt had spent the day scouting the area and when he returned to camp, he was pleased to see the company in a reasonably happy and merry state. A part of him was still frustrated over Root's antics, but he tried to remember when he himself grew up in the secluded mountain stronghold of Kaer Morhen; his only companions the witchers who trained him and his fellow learners. And they were few in number, even in those days. He didn't know much about the greater world either when he first set out to make his way as a professional.

"Now we are even less." He said softly, and his eyes rested on Root. "But hopefully not for long."

Dandelion hauled the second five gallon barrel up to the storage and set it with a thump into place. Wiping his brow he leaned next to the kitchen space.

"Phew! That took all dang day to melt snow, boil it and transfer it into these jugs. Now I know why people outside the cities settle by water sources. Good gravy!" he said, dabbing his neck with a silken cloth.

"Imagine if you had to walk a few miles to draw water each and every day." Root said, glancing at him. "We had a fine well at fathers' homestead. But the nomadic elves I lived with often had to make water runs. Very hard work indeed."

"Hey, um, Roo?" the bard asked, and Root looked over. "I'm really glad you're home."

Her lipped quivered and her green eyes shimmered.

"Home?" she said softly.

"Yeah. Home. This is us now. You know? You, Regis, Geralt, Vernon, and me. Heck, even Errol and company are like family now too. So…yeah, this is your home. Our home. No matter where we go, home is right here, with us." He said kindly.

Root embraced the bard and hugged him tightly.

"Oh, D! Thank you!"

"Hey, anything for you, RooRoo. Now let's get this dinner finished! I'm starving." he said.


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

When they'd all eaten their fill and Root had taken the dishes over to be cleaned, the master bard took out his lute and entertained the company with elven arias and beautiful instrumentals that drifted through the dark pine wood forest of the valley. The elven sentries in the trees, and the Viziman soldiers on watch, too could hear the melody as it reverberated off the great mountain face, and it cheered their hearts. Geralt sat at the fire with his companions and enjoyed a fine smoke and a bottle of dark dwarven ale.

"How long do you think we should stay here, Geralt?" Regis asked, looking up from the book he'd been enjoying. "With Cahir not going to report in, do you think the Imperator will send others?"

The Witcher nodded and exhaled. "He will. Remember, the primary target as far as the Emperor is concerned is Roche. I doubt Emhyr cares anything for a werewolf killing religious fanatics, especially when those fanatics are loyal to a crown that isn't his own. Shit, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd thank her for doing him a favor. Still, he's got to play the game. We'll stay here through tomorrow night but then we need to press on to the river. We'll camp there for one night, and then head on to the keep. We should reach the crossing by the following evening and then by darkness the following we should reach the Wolf School. They'll see us coming long before and I'm going to suppose Vesemir will have questions about the entourage I'll be bringing home. Which reminds me. Root? Come here please."

Root wiped her hands on the flour sack towel, tossed it onto the tiny counter-top and went to the Witcher's side.

"I know you're very free and open with your shifting." Geralt began. "But I'm going to ask that you not transform in front of Master Vesemir. Or Eskel and Lambert, who I'm sure are wintering here as they usually do. They'll know what you are straightaway and we'll work through that. But if they see you in shifted form, well they might slip into battle trance and draw on you."

"But, Geralt, wouldn't it be better for them to see a werewolf who acts well?" the woman said with a slight smirk. "I'll make them homemade scones and cookies too."

The White Wolf looked up at her and shook his head, remembering the same words he'd spoken to her about reaching out to the elves.

"Fees right, Geralt." Errol said quietly and Valonna hugged the Speaker.

"Alright, alright, my hunter." Root said and kissed the Witcher on either cheek. "I won't. Not in front of them. But I hope there will be places where I can."

He nodded. "Plenty. Alright, who's up for a game?"

"Oh, good call, Geralt." Regis said. "Let me get some more water going for tea."

"Hey, I just spent all day getting that water! Go easy. Ha! Just kidding, Regis!" the poet joked.

"No, fanks. I need foo sleep." Errol said, and he and Valonna left for their tent.

"Give him some of the draught I gave you, Val. No aruging, Speaker. You're going to bed anyways. Physicians orders." The barber-surgeon called over to them.

"I'm out too, gents." Vernon said and left the group, heading for his tent that had been stripped of all signs of his rank and country. "Just not feeling it tonight."

Root's heart ached for the commander and she wanted to help him feel better. The forest maiden gave her witcher a kiss and walked back to the kitchen to putter around in the storage.

"Let's see where did I stash that…ah here it is!" she said, and poured some fresh milk into a pot and brought it to the fire.

"Deal em out, Geralt." Dandelion said. "Roo, grab the Mahakam special will you?"

Root handed the bard the dark glass bottle and poured the cocoa and sugar into the pan of frothing milk, giving it a stir until the hot chocolate was ready. She then ladled some into a mug, retreived a few sugar cookies she'd saved from the poet's last batch, put them on a tray and walked over to Roche's tent.

"Vernon?" she said. "May I come in?"

"Of course, Root." He replied and lifted the flap.

She held the tray up and smiled.

"Hey. I thought you might like a little treat before bed."

"That's very kind of you. Come in."

Root set the tray on the small table where she'd seen his many maps of the area once laid out, and glanced around the room. It was much less lavish, with the colored fabrics bearing insignias of Temeria and Vizima having been removed, leaving only the fur-lined tent in a much simpler fashion. Then turning to him, Root saw that the soldier had drawn very near, and she hadn't heard him. He reached out his hand.

"I envy you." He whispered softly, carressing her cheek. "How I long to be like you. Free from…all this. To live wild, without kings or politics. I've always been a loyal man. A soldier. But I have nothing now. No king, no country, no home. I'm…I'm lost."

Root stepped close, and the man slid his hands down to encircle her waist.

"Well, as you've seen, kings and their politics have still managed to find me. But considering who I've met along the way, it's not been all bad. And, Vernon, you have us." She said. "Come away with us. I know you want revenge but, I can't bear the thought of you bleeding out on a palace floor. I know I don't understand devotion to kings and country but, I know what love is, Vernon Roche and…I…I love you."

The commanders' eyes widened and he stepped away from her, turned, and walked to the corner of his tent, leaning on one of the support poles.

Root wasn't sure what to make of his reaction, and stood there quietly. After a few moments, she approached and slipped her hands around his waist, leaning against his back.

"Did I upset you?" she asked, kissing the space between his shoulders.

"Upset me? Because you told me you loved me? No. You're just the first person to ever say that to me." Vernon replied in a whisper.

Shocked, Root gasped as he turned to face her.

"How…how can that be?" she said, seeing the storm in his eyes.

He sighed heavily. "You know how Geralt calls me a whoreson at times? It's just something guy friends call each other, right? Well…in my case it's…true. I am a whores' son. And she…well, I never knew her so, my own mother never told me she loved me. And obviously being the son of a…well, I never knew my father either. And the people who raised me weren't happy about the little bundle arriving on their doorstep, but they took me in. They were good people but, they uh…never said it either."

Root stood in silence, listening patiently, her heart aching for him.

"So the moment I could I left. Joined the service and devoted myself to training. Fighting. A blade. And honing those skills. As you know I rose through the ranks. I had a cause, something that I could devote myself to. And I hoped to…ah never mind."

"You tried to earn love from those around you by being better and better." Root said with a soft, understanding smile. "By hiding your hurts; believing your very existence was enough to earn peoples derision. Am I close?"

Roche's blue eyes glistened. "Bullseye."

Root embraced him and nestled against his chest.

"I never knew my mother either. She died giving birth to me. I always blamed myself. I figured I was being punished for what I am. But I've come to believe that such isn't true. You can't earn love. And suffering alone and hiding only makes it worse and drives those we love and who love us away. Trust me, I know that. And I love you, Vernon. Not for anything you've done, although you've done a lot for me. I love the man you are. All that you are. Your home can be with us. With me."

Roche gazed down at her, stroking her shoulders.

"You really mean it."

"Of course I do. One cannot help whom they love. And…to lighten it up a bit, can I…can I confess something to you?" Root said with girlish grin.

Roche nodded. He was happy to move on to a less emotionally charged topic, but not ungrateful to have had the conversation.

"You remember the night we first met?" she asked. "Not the day. When I…yeah. The night?"

"Oh, don't I ever. Emiel was furious. I thought the man was going to rip my heart out." Roche replied. "But he turned out all right; was just protecting you. And you were terrified. Why do you ask?"

"Well, what if I told you that I think of that night sometimes…when I'm in need of a good shiver?" She said, her green eyes burning with memory.

Roche's eyes narrowed slightly and he gripped her body a little more firmly, drawing her tight to his chest, looking down at her with his pale gaze.

"I seem to recall asking you _not_ to remember me as the man who held you at knife point. But do go on. I'm curious."

"You held me so tightly and I was so afraid." She said, and he swore he could hear her heart pounding. "I couldn't move. I was…"

"Helpless in my arms." Roche finished.

"Oh, gods…" she whispered, pressing against him. "Yes…"

"You like that a lot don't you?" he said playfully, letting his hand wander over her bottom. "What's this bit about being tired that you like as well?"

Root flushed deep red and bit her lip.

"Did they tell you that?" she asked, but he shook his head.

"No. I worked it out. Ahh, wait. It's all wrapped up together isn't it? The helplessness you feel with Regis' vampire powers. Geralt's prowess as a witcher. And my…what would say?" Roche asked.

"Your presence. You just…authority radiates from you, Vernon. You could make anyone follow you without question." Root replied.

"You want to follow me without question?" he said darkly, lowering his voice.

Root shivered in his arms and it made the veteran soldier grin.

"Yes, sir." Root whispered, having heard the soldiers' replies to the commander with those same words.

Roche's eyes slipped closed, reveling in the sexiness of her words.

"Do you have any idea how much that turns me on to hear you say that?" he said, slowly opening his eyes, pressing himself against her so she could feel.

Root looked up through her dark lashes, her green eyes smoldering as if a forest were on fire within.

"I really did just come to bring you hot chocolate and cookies before bed."

Roche smirked at her. "Try and leave. Do you honestly think you could escape me?"

"Not in this form. No, I couldn't."

"Ah yes, I remember well how powerful you are in wolf form. My ribs still twinge a bit from the beating you gave me." He said, guiding her backwards. "You're more powerful than you realize I think. Or perhaps, more than you like to let on."

But Root gave him a very amused look and a skeptical raised eyebrow, which made the soldier laugh lightly.

"OK fine, probably not." He said. "Sit here for me and close your eyes."

The woman sat on the man's bed, but her gaze was playful, questioning.

"Ah, you said without question, Root. Now be good and close your eyes." Roche said again.

"Yes, sir." She purred and sat quietly, her hands folded on her lap.

Vernon walked quietly to a large chest, in which he stored his clothing and other personal effects. He rummaged through, looking for a soft leather bundle and finding it, took out a small glass vial. He looked over and saw that Root was obediently sitting with her eyes closed, running her palms over the soft coverings of the bed. Looking at her, Roche was able to gauge the womans approximate weight and, compensating for her being a werewolf, he emptied about three quarters of the vial into one of the hot chocolates.

"These cookies look delicious, Root. Did you make them?" he asked, carrying the tray over and sitting down beside her.

"No. Dandelion did." She answered. "He's quite the baker. Well, and cook. Which is good considering how often I've been…well, never mind."

"Here." He said, and rubbed the sugared cookie against her lips after dipping it in the hot chocolate.

Root licked and nibbled as he fed her.

"What were you going to say? I opened up a bit to you so feel free to share anything you like with me." He said.

Root shrugged. "I sometimes just…well, I know that…oh, spirits how do I say this? I know my meeting Geralt and Regis was due to things outside of my control. And they've been so good to me so, I do my best to be helpful. And yet…well, various things have happened around me or to me that have sometimes rendered me unable to help. So, I feel guilty sometimes when Dandelion or Regis has to take over things like cooking or the cleaning."

The soldier smiled at the woman sitting before him. She wouldn't be the first woman to feel that way.

"They all love you, Root. Helping those you care about when they're having issues is part of all relationships. I mean, hey, I'm a soldier, right? And the men who serve under me know that they better obey my orders or risk severe punishment. But every single one of them knows that when they need help, they have only to ask. Sure it's not a romantic relationship but it's the same idea. We have a relationship and with that bond comes the duty to help and stand by those you form that bond with. Whether a brother in arms or a lover."

The woman considered his words and nodded.

"I know. You're right. I just…sometimes I still feel that way."

"And I do understand feeling helpless. Well, but, not in that way." Vernon said and she blushed. "What I mean to say is, my king lies dead, and my country burns. Yet…I can do nothing about it. Not now. Had I rushed back to Vizima perhaps…you know, let's change the subject."

"I'm sorry to have…" but he put a finger on her lips.

"Don't apologize for sharing your thoughts. So. You know I thought I'd not want for company for a bit." Vernon said, having a cookie. "But I must admit, you _do_ seem to have a way of getting into peoples' hearts. More?"

She nodded and Vernon gave her another dipped in chocolate.

"You make me sound like some grand manipulator of people when you say it like that." Root said sweetly. "I'm just…me, Vernon. I don't know."

"You may open your eyes now." He said, handing her a mug of the hot chocolate. "This is very good. Thank you for bringing this, Root. I really do appreciate your thoughtfulness."

She accepted it and sipped. "Aww, you're welcome. I much prefer seeing you happy. My father made the best hot chocolates though. He would put leaves of fresh mint into the mixture and top it with whipped cream."

They finished their drinks and Roche took the mugs back over the small table. Root yawned and gazed sleepily around the room

"What?" she asked, noticing him watching her.

"Now it's my turn to ask you something." He said. "Do you recall what else I was in charge of as part of my duties to King Foltest?"

Root took notice of the heavy feeling in her limbs, and the fog in her mind that had settled over her like a sudden flood.

"No…I…oh my, I feel strange." she said, trying to stand. But Vernon came and pressed lightly on her shoulder, keeping her seated.

"It was my job to interrogate prisoners." He whispered, laying her back onto the bed as the drug swept through her veins "You're all right. That little mix I put in your drink is nice, yes? Works quickly too."

Root looked up into his pale blues and he could see that she was trying to smile at him, but her body had become so relaxed that she really couldn't.

"You would do this to…prisoners?" she muttered as he pulled off her boots, socks and shrugged off her pants.

"Mhm. See how you can't really move? That's because it's a heavy muscle relaxant; which kept me safe from physical harm with particularly violent prisoners. That and I wouldn't have to restrain them as much, allowing me to use more…persusive methods of information extraction. The sedative part worked on their mind, keeping them…well, you're feeling it now aren't you. Colorless and nearly odorless, this mixture could be added to anything and a target wouldn't be able to detect it. Having it on covert ops in which a live capture was required was essential."

"Infor…mation…extraction?" she asked, trying to focus on him. "Why does that sound so…hot?"

Vernon unbuckled the heavy cloak and eased it out from behind her. He then gently tugged the sleeves of her long-sleeved shirt and slipped it off, leaving her nude.

"You aren't the first woman to fantasize about being interrogated, Root." He said, admiring the soft mounds of her full breasts. "It's very common. And I'm very good at it. But tonight I only wanted to show you how easily I could have you in my power."

"Mmmm,…oh but it's…cold…" Root said, her eyelids heavy. "I…I want to be…in…your…"

"Shh, I know." He replied, having gone to grab one of his cotton shirts. "You'll be warm soon. And you will be again. For tonight, you sleep. Another night, well, we shall see what happens won't we?"

Vernon dressed her in the more comfortable clothing and then stripped himself down to nothing, crawling into bed next to her and covering them both with the heavy blankets.

"You sleep naked?" Root asked as he pinched out the bedside candle.

"Yep. Makes it easier to jump out of bed, dress and get armored on short notice. Do you like how you feel right now? Is this pleasing to you?" he asked.

Root nodded her head. "I would like to know what's…in that…"

"Why is that?" Roche asked, tracing the line of her jaw. "Ah, of course, so Emiel can make more. Yes, I'll tell him."

The forest maiden could only manage a slight moan, trying desperately to open her eyes, but she was too far gone.

"Root?"

"Yes…"

"I love you too." Vernon replied. "My Queen of the Forest. Thank you."

"For what?" she said quietly with closed eyes, her fingers resting against his chest.

He kissed her forehead. "For loving me. For seeing me as more than a soldier."

"I…love…all parts…of you, Vern..on." Root said, but he could tell she was essentially talking in her sleep.

He shook his head, loving the adorable way she was still trying to resist. And he wondered too what she would be like when she woke from the sedatives' effect. Vernon felt he understood her fetish, only in a different way; because it turned him on to see her so helpless, laying with him in the darkness, unable to resist his advances. And while he figured Root would enjoy just about anything he'd do to her, tonight he simply wanted to show her that he could have her at his whim and mercy whenever he wished it. Root snored, a quiet little wheeze. He lightly brushed his fingers near her eyelashes and there was absolutely no reaction. She was completely out.

"Good night, sweet maiden of the woods." He whispered and drifted off himself.

* * *

"Finally!" Dandelion said, tossing his winning card down onto the playing field. "You didn't let me win did you, Geralt?"

The Witcher raised an eyebrow and took a long pull from the stein of honey mead.

"Fuck no, bard. I'll happily kick your ass any time. You won fair and square."

"Ah, the cards simply weren't with me tonight." Regis replied. "And, it would seem, neither is our mate. Oh. Oh, well Vernon Roche, you sneaky bastard."

Geralt and the bard looked to the vampire, who'd closed his eyes to check on Root's thoughts. The Witcher rose, tossed another log onto the fire, and then gazed out into the surrounding pine forest.

"Well, at least she's actually with him and not run off again." Geralt grumbled, lacing his fingers and having a stretch. "What did he do? Tie her up like a prisoner?"

Regis shook his head and opening his eyes, took out a pipe and packed it with a new smoking blend he'd made from resources available in the pine forest.

"No. Although she'd like that too. He drugged her." He replied casually, lighting it. "Oh, that's nice. You should try this new blend, Geralt."

Dandelion looked shocked, and the Witcher paused.

"Is that safe for him to do that? She is a werewolf after all. How would he know how much to give her?" Geralt asked.

"You don't think the commander of the Blue Stripes has ever interrogated a werewolf?" Regis asked, drawing on the pipe.

"Yeah, he probably has." The Witcher said, leaning against the carriage. "Still that could be dangerous. If we got attacked right now, she'd be helpless. And not in the way she likes."

"True, true. But as you well know, in the heat of the moment, crazy ideas get into one's mind. I'll be sure to have a friendly chat with him about it. He's going to talk to me about what's in the formula anyways because she wants more."

"Wait, wait. Roche interrogated Root?" the poet asked, still stunned by the idea that the Viziman doped his close companion.

"No, no. That's just part of what he did as head of special forces. He would have knowledge of how to use such agents on humans and non-humans alike."

"And what do you mean she wants more? Regis, isn't that…like bad?" Dandelion asked. "I mean don't get me wrong, gentleman. I've sampled some of the um…cocktails, shall we say, available at some of the high class bath houses and courtesan establishments. But those types of chems can be dangerous to the unlearned."

"You hypocrite." Geralt said with a chuckle. "So you can enjoy them but Root can't? Is that it?"

"No!" he said defensively. "It's just, well Roo's probably never had stuff like that. You know? I know I can handle my shit. You can too. And I'm sure Regis…well, actually maybe…"

The vampire, who'd long ago given up drinking the blood of men, rolled his eyes.

"Master Dandelion, the only thing I ever quit because I couldn't "handle my shit" was blood. Good gracious, man. Being an herbalist I've had to sample many things to know their properties. And yes, I've enjoyed many intoxicants in my days as well. But you do make a fair point. Root's experience with reagents is not as extensive as my own and there is some risk. Still, it's not fair to deny her enjoyment of them if she so desires, so long as she's safe about it. She has all of us to watch out for her. I wouldn't worry."

"All right, all right. Well, I'll take second watch with the sentries. We leave after tomorrow night right Geralt?" the poet asked, rising.

The Witcher nodded. "Yeah. Good night, Dandelion."

"Rest well, master bard." Regis said. "You go ahead and get some sleep too, Geralt. You had a rough few days and nights of hard riding."

"And you killed around fifty men single-handedly. Are you sure you don't need an extra nap, old man?" the Witcher said with a smirk.

"Please. I hardly broke a sweat. It helps, when fighting crazed zealots, to be sober. And this time I was." He replied with a wicked grin.

Geralt glanced at Roche's tent and then reluctantly climbed up into the carriage home by himself. Regis drew on his pipe and blew smoke rings into the winter air, the wise and powerful vampire guarding them alongside the elven sentries and soldiers of the party.


	60. Chapter 60

Chapter 60 (Some larger chapters lately. Bear with me, as there isn't always a great place to break. Thank you to all my readers!)

* * *

Step, step, turn…

"Wrong. Again." Geralt said evenly.

Step, pirouette, step, step…

"No. Again, Root."

Step, pirouette, step and turn…

"Good." He said with a nod, circling around the woman as she performed the new morning exercise routine with a wooden training blade. "Faster."

Step, step…

"Wrong."

"Geralt!" Root said with a huff, facing him, breathing hard, sweat drenching the white cotton shirt.

"Again." He said, ignoring her outburst and fierce green eyes.

Step, pirouette, step and turn. Back step, turn and…

"No. Root, you're still getting distracted. Look right here." He said, pointing to himself. "Focus on me and let everything else around you go."

Step, pirouette, step and turn. Reverse turn, step, back, turn and lunge.

"Yes." He said with a nod.

Strike, raise blade, about face, spin and downward thrust, parry and step, step, turn and circle…

"Very good." He said softly. "Stay with me."

Pirouette, step and turn, reverse, step back and lunge, strike, spin and lunge…

"Faster." He said, crouching, his golden eyes very pleased.

Swish, turn, step and spin, slash, slash, step and strike, heel, turn and upward cut…The world around her seemed to fade and Root felt a humming energy within her body, as if it rose up out of blade in her hands and joined with her. Whirl and slash, turn, step and roll…The Witcher raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Pirouette, step, step, faster now, slash and strike, turn, parry…riposte! She imagined the faces of the zealots who attacked her friends and lovers. Step, strike, turn, parry, spin and slash…Her enemies appeared around her and she faced them, fierce eyed but calm. Turn and step, clash! Parry and turn, lunge. Dead. Piroutte and block, clang! Turn and plunge. Dead. Swish, turn, roll and parry…

Clack! Her wooden blade smacked against the match held by Vernon Roche. Root blinked a few times, coming out of the battle trance, and looked at Geralt.

"Ready yourself. Light strikes, Roche." The Witcher said.

Step, pirouette, step and turn, clack, clack as they connected.

"Good, Root." Geralt said, circling them.

Roche moved toward her, slipped the blade past her guard and made to smack the blade from her fingers. Root dropped the blade instead, kicked her foot out, caught it, flipped it into the air, rolled to the side as Vernon swung at her and caught her blade, turning to face him. Clack!

"Did you see that?" Dandelion said quietly, nudging Regis who watched with proud eyes.

"Focus." Geralt said as the two faced off.

The Viziman commander circled the woman, twirled his blade with a flourish and came at her, bringing his blade down hard.

Block and riposte! Root landed a hit on Roche's exposed shoulder.

"Point. Good, Root." The White Wolf said.

Step, pirouette, step and turn. Roche spun in a tight circle, feinted and slapped the back of her knees with the blade, causing her to cry out.

"Point. You should've seen that. Next point wins."

"Should I let you win?" Roche asked, expertly side-stepping.

"Don't even think of it." Root growled.

"Focus, Root." Geralt corrected.

"Come on, Roo." Dandelion whispered, his hands clenched.

And then she just…vanished. There was a gasp from the onlookers and Geralt's golden eyes narrowed, seeing a shimmering figure circling around behind Vernon Roche. But the veteran soldier was fast and well-trained. He turned just as she went to land a hit and blocked, answering with a strong riposte of his own, throwing her off balance and she reappeared, landing with a thump. Sitting at the end of his blade as he tapped her shoulder with a grin.

"Point. Roche wins." Geralt said, walking over as the soldier helped Root to her feet. "What was that, Root?"

"That, gentleman," Regis said, as he and the bard walked up. "Is how she evaded the sentries the other night. Yet another power made manifest. Can you tell us how you do it?"

Root sipped cold water from the canteen and wiped the sweat from her brow.

"I'm not sure how to explain it. Like with other things I do it just…seemed to happen. When I had decided to run, I remember wishing I could become invisible. I thought for sure the sentries were going to see but I wasn't sure if they'd question me. Maybe they would think I was just out for a walk. So anyways, I crept out when you all were occupied, made my way along the rock wall when I nearly blundered right into one of the soldiers relieving himself in the bushes. He looked right at me, or rather through me. And it was then I realized that he couldn't see me. I don't know how it happens or how it shuts off. I just…will it and it seems to happen." She explained.

"That is fascinating, my dear. And one thing we know is that it isn't true invisibility." Regis began. "We couldn't see you as you are now, but we could see a sort of….shimmering, clear form. True invisibility, like what I and other higher vampires do, is a complete absence. Not a mirage or illusion."

"It was akin to a scorching hot summer day, when the heat rises off the cooked cobblestone roads. How it wavers as it rises." Roche said. "Still it did make you hard to see. And at night, without any light source to give you away, it might as well be true invisibility. I'm supposing that having your concentration broken is what caused you to reappear."

"Well, whatever it is, it's a valuble skill you'll want to hone and understand more." Geralt explained. "Now why don't you have a run in wolf form? We'll be arriving at the keep tomorrow night and it will be a while, most likely, before you'll be able to do so. Don't go too far and don't cross the river."

The Witchers' company had arrived at the river side camping spot and had made only minimum fires and shelters for a single night. But it was a beautiful place, with the stronger current flowing freely rather than being half frozen, and wound through the forested valley like a crystal serpent. Looking far to the north, a huge summit rose, making it seem so much closer to them than it really was. And the woman knew that somewhere, nestled in those snowy crags, was the Wolf School.

Root nodded, climbed up into the carriage to change and then gracefully landed on all fours when she jumped back out. With a shake and a stretch, the werewolf rumbled happily and took off into the pine wood forest. Geralt nodded and turned to Regis.

"Mind her thoughts. Any loony ideas, bring her back here." The hunter said.

"Of course." He replied.

"Geralt, a vord if you fease." Errol said, approaching the group.

"Your speech is much improved, Speaker. I'm glad to hear it. Dandelion, no, let's not get the crate of booze unpacked, too much to pack up tomorrow morning. Excuse me." And Regis went off to make sure things were in order to travel at first light.

The Witcher turned to the elven man who, like him, had let his beard go the last few weeks. Only Errol had decided to twist his into twin, short braids.

"Can you feel the shift in the atmosphere? There's a storm coming, a vig one. It's going foo roll right over the lip of the mountains as rain and it'll hit us around midday tomorrow af a blizzard. Val's got a good sense for weather, she's never been wrong." He said, shouldering his bow.

"Hmm, you're certain? It's practically a straight shot north to the keep but it could be easy to get lost in whiteout conditions. Or buried and stuck for another few days. If we leave tonight we can travel through the night and arrive before it gets too bad. Alright, then. Thanks, Errol. Why don't you get some sleep, and then we can let the women and children sleep while we watch and travel tonight?"

"Fery good, Gwynbleidd." he said with a nod.

Geralt looked out into the pine forest, watching as Root dexterously scaled a nearby tree, clawing her way up in seconds and leapt easily and fluidly from one tree to the next like a lithe acrobat.

"She's going to be a force to be reckoned with you know. A deadly one." Roche said, standing by Geralt's side. "Look at her move; absolutely no hesitation at all, confident. And you're training her to be that sure with blades? Are you sure you've thought that through?"

Geralt knew the veteran soldier was jesting, at least in part, because he himself was a key part of Root's sword and discipline training. But the Commander had a point.

"That's what we need. We being witchers. There's not many of us left in the world that keep to the old ways. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. If Root and Regis have taught me anything it's that monsters aren't always the ones with fur and fangs. We have to open our doors to the non-humans who seek us out for training or we're going to vanish like relics of the past. I push Root hard because I want her to represent the best of what the future can be. And being that she and Regis are immortal I'm hoping…well, we'll get to that another day. But you're right; she is the model of grace and power in that form."

"And savage strength." Roche said, patting his chest. "Remember the morning she and I fought?"

"How could we forget, husband number three?" Regis said, also coming to watch the werewolf leap through the woods. "I vividly recall you drawing a silver blade on her while wearing a sneer that could curdle milk. You're a frightening person yourself when you wish to be."

Vernon turned to the herbalist with a raised eyebrow while Geralt clapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh yeah, welcome to the group." The Witcher said with a smirk.

"Husband?" Roche said. "You mean…she…"

"Thinks of you as such? Yes, indeed. Root has all sorts of words in her mind that more or less add up to the human concept of husband. Mate, partner, terms like that. Now I'm not intending to intrude but because I can read her thoughts I happen to know these things. I figured it might please you to know." Regis explained.

"What kind of strange world have I landed in?" Roche said with a smile, looking out at the shifted woman. "There was a time not so long ago that I'd have been repulsed by the notion of a woman having three husbands."

"But not repulsed by that woman being a werewolf, eh?" Geralt asked, partially in jest.

"Nope." Roche replied, shaking his head. "I never even thought of it when I would think of her. Not that I ignored it but rather, its just, her."

"Which I personally find very admirable, Vernon. But is this the strange world?" Regis asked, following his gaze. "Or is the world outside of our little company the strange one I wonder?"

Root's three mates all looked out at her; her vampire, her witcher and her commander, and she noticed, dropped to the ground and shifted back. They admired her pale body, naked, full and round, plump but more toned, standing in the forest, holding their attention with eyes that matched the trees around them. She tucked a lock of short brown hair behind her ear, gave them a shy smile, and then transformed in a flash, bounding off into the snow like some woodland ghost.

"So, newest mate of our dear Root, care to tell me what was in the drug you slipped her the other night?" Emiel asked.

"Speaking of not thinking things through." Geralt teased, nudging Vernon's shoulder.

"Ah, you know about that too do you? Yes, she liked that a lot." Vernon said with a sly grin and a chuckle. "It's a distillation of several plants with sedative and quasi-paralytic properties. I'm sure that your vast knowledge of herbs far exceeds my own so you'll forgive me if I don't recall the exact names of the plants. My agent, living as a commoner in the city, would have it made and deliver it to my contact. I can draw up a list of what I recall though."

"Ah, of course." Geralt said. "Can't have the local population knowing their leaders' commander is drugging and torturing prisoners."

"There's a lot that the common folk don't need to know about what their leaders do, Geralt. I know you're going to give me grief about that but it's true. Your average person doesn't have a clue what goes on in the greater world outside of where they shit, have sex, sleep and work. Nor do they need to be troubled with it. They have enough to worry about, what with putting food on the table and clothes on their back. What I did kept our streets, our people and our nation safe and…well, it doesn't matter anymore anyways now does it. Excuse me." Roche replied and walked off toward the river.

Geralt sighed and let the Viziman go, knowing he was still raw over the loss of king and country.

"Well, that was awkward to say the least." Regis said, giving the Witcher a glare. "You probably didn't need to say that."

"Yeah, I know. But shit, does he not realize that the Nilfgaardians think the same about their policies and practices?" Geralt said. "But, ack, there's me and my mouth again. I'll talk to him later. Look, Errol just told me that a big storm is headed our way. Major blizzard."

"Ah, I see. You think we should depart early?" Regis replied knowingly.

"I do. Call Root back and let's me, you, Roche, Errol, Dandelion and the sentries get some sleep for a few hours. That way we can travel through the night while the women and children rest. It'll be a chilly ride with no fire but it's going to beat being stuck out here buried in snow again. If all goes well, we should reach Kaer Morhen by midday tomorrow ahead of the weather."

"Root's not going to sleep through the night. She'll want to stay up with us and protect our little caravan. She feels very responsible for the elves now, very protective since the incident with the zealots." The vampire said as they walked back to the river side camp.

"I know. That's why I want you to call her back. She can watch over the camp while we all sleep. Then she'll sleep tonight." Geralt replied.

It was about noon when the Witcher and Root stood outside the carriage home, the rest of the males in the company having retired to their tents to sleep until nightfall. Valonna and the children busied themselves with simple crafts or book reading by the fire, the elven woman doing her best to keep them all up so they'd sleep well that night. The forest maiden was again clad in the simple leather armor, tugging uncomfortably at the bunched fabric, but Geralt insisted she wear it rather than patrol around in her wolf form.

"You need to learn how to wear armor and wear it well, Root. The more you move in it, the more skillful and adept you'll be over time. But if you don't wear it, and rely on your wolf form, you'll get hurt badly when you're not able to change. When we reach the school I'll have you fitted for armor of your own and it will be much better, you'll see." He explained.

"Armor like yours?" she asked, running her hand along the silvery maile that covered his biceps.

"Perhaps. Now listen, I'm leaving you to watch over us while we catch a few hours sleep. We're going to be leaving at nightfall rather than tomorrow. Bad weather is coming." The Witcher said.

"Me?" Root asked, looking very surprised. "Alone?"

"We've talked about you taking a watch before. And you were practically alone with the elves. Dandelion is all but shit in a fight. You just didn't know that. And you did so well. I trust in you. Now stay alert and I'll see you in a few hours."

"But…but, Geralt, I…"

The Witcher kissed her forehead.

"Root, I need to sleep so I can be alert tonight. I need you to guard me now." He whispered and she nodded. "Good girl."

The Witcher climbed up into the carriage and went to sleep. Leaving the forest maiden dressed in a hand-me-down studded leather bodice, tight fitting doeskin breeches with thigh high riding boots and a fur cloak; the short steel sword secured in the belt at her side. With a deep breath, she set off to walk the perimeter of the camp, feeling quite alone and exposed without their retinue of sentries and soldiers about. The woman had become so accustomed to having them around that the idea of taking a watch hadn't seemed so daunting. And during the zealot attack, she'd been on such an adreneline high that she didn't think too much about it, needing to hold it together for Val and the kids. But now, being on watch while all of them were asleep, knowing she was responsible for them, made her very, very nervous. Still, she set her mind to make her loved ones proud.

As the hours rolled by, Root found it curious how things changed in the mind. Every shadow became a potential hiding spot for an enemy that you would stare at, look away, and then quickly turn back to stare at some more to make sure there was nothing. Every movement, a threat that had the eyes darting in every which way when a branch would sway in the wind, or snow crunch under a rabbits' whispery pad. And it was mentally exhausting being on that level of high alert for a long period of time. Now she understood why she'd been utterly spent when the company had finally found them, and why there needed to be a watch shift. No one should be the sole lookout for an extended period of time, lest paranoia set in, and one started sounding the alarm over phantoms. And yet she mused how when living all alone in the deep woods, she was never afraid. Not of monsters, men or anything else.

"But then I hadn't known of the greater world." She said, gazing out over the river, the last rays of the sun turning the water to gold. "How ignorant I was."

"Bleidd beanna, some supper for you." Valonna said, bringing her a plate of hard cheese, bread and dried meat. "I know we're leaving soon so I didn't fix a big dinner."

"Perfect. Thanks, Val." Root replied.

The men woke about an hour after sunset and Root ran to her vampire and wrapped her arms around Regis' neck, holding him tightly.

"Root, you're fine. We're here. My goodness, woman, calm down. It was just a few hours of being somewhat alone." He said, holding her but giving Geralt and Vernon an amused look over her shoulder. "You did very well. Yes, yes you did. Now hush, that's enough. Go get changed. We're leaving soon and you don't need to sleep in that."

The woman climbed up into the carriage and the herbalist joined his companions in getting food from Valonna, who'd made up simple plates for all the sentries and soldiers too.

"Are you sure that's the same woman who beat the crap out of me one sunny morning?" Vernon said. "I've never met someone who was as hard as iron one minute, and then weaker than glass the next. What was she wound up about?"

"Just her first time watching the camp by herself is all." Regis said kindly.

"Hey, um, mate number three, I'm sorry about earlier." Geralt said quietly, buttering a hunk of bread. "That was an asshole thing to say and I apologize."

Roche gave him a nod and a tap on the shoulder. "Nah, don't worry about it, Wolf. Probably just being oversensitive. Sort of like someone else. Good evening, wife."

Vernon met Root's gaze as she slid down from the carriage dressed in regular winter clothing. The forest maiden blushed and found herself captured by his blue eyes.

"Good evening, husband." She said sweetly, and then looked at each of them. "Husbands."

"Hey, guys." Dandelion said, coming to the fire and getting a plate. "Thanks, Vala. Should we get packed up and ready to head out? Hey, Roo, you have a good watch? You're going to sleep well tonight, eh?"

Root glanced at the bard but said nothing. Just smiled and set about packing things up in the carriage kitchen so they could leave when all were done with their supper.

"Told you." Regis said softly, elbowing the Witcher. "She wants to stay up."

The Witcher shook his head and chased dinner with cold water from the canteen.

"Well, she's not going to. She just doesn't want to be alone. Once she's asleep she won't know otherwise." Geralt said.

"Of course. So which of us is going to convince her when it's bedtime? Shall we toss an oren? Cast lots?" Regis said.

"I got this." Roche said with a smirk. "The new wife and I have an…understanding, shall we say? No problem."

The company loaded up the rest of their supplies, lit the torches and fitted them to the iron sconces on the carriage and carts. While Valonna and Root got the children wrapped up snugly and bedded down in the back of the carriage home. Val then climbed up into the back of the cart Errol was driving, Dandelion mounted old Roach, Regis and Geralt sat on the drivers' bench of the carriage and the sentries and soldiers mounted their horses as well. Vernon had hitched his steadfast stallion to the second cart and motioned for Root to join him. She climbed up next to the Viziman and the Witcher took one last look around, making sure the fires were out and everything was secure. With a snap and a whistle, the draft horses once again lurched forward and the company moved out, embarking on the last leg of their journey to the great fortress of the witchers.

The caravan rumbled down the track in the darkness, the Witcher keeping the torches lit with the ocassional snap of igni, while the two carts kept pace on either side. The soldiers and sentries rode both ahead of and behind them, keeping watch always. Dandelion rode Geralt's mare, his lute resting on the saddle, strumming as they went. Normally Geralt would not approve of the bard making music as they traveled, but so confident was he in the valley of his youth that he allowed it, to calm and cheer the company. The deep green pine forest was bathed in moonlight as they traveled, with silvery drifts reflecting the lunar light, making the trees shimmer as if coated in polished diamonds from the dwarven mountain stronghold itself. Geralt was eager to return to the keep, although he was still not at all sure how Vesemir and the others would handle the reality of Root's lupine nature. He hoped the old one would lean on the wisdom of his years, and trust in his good sense and judgment of character. And then there was Lambert to worry about. The youngest of the Wolf School, Geralt knew that he'd already made a name for himself far and wide, slaying some of the most vicious and powerful beasts to walk the world. If given the chance, Geralt wondered if the feisty younger man would harm Root.

As the night rolled on, Geralt glanced at the Commander and then at Root. The forest maiden was leaning on the soldiers' arm, rocking with the carts movements, half asleep.

"Root, bedtime." Geralt said. "It's late and you were up during the day watch."

But the Witcher knew the woman was going to argue with him as she looked over, her green eyes defiant albeit tired.

"I'm fine, Geralt. I want to stay up with you all." She said, trying to mask a yawn.

"Root Selithlene Godefroy-Wolf…Roche." Vernon said sternly, looking over at her. "Get in the back, cover up and close your eyes. Right. Now."

Stunned into silence, the woman first gaped, then closed her mouth, and then opened it again to complain but he put a finger to her lips.

"Without. Question. Now do as I say." He answered.

And to Geralt's amazement and amusement, she lowered her eyes and obeyed. Climbing in the back of the cart and burying herself under the warm, heavy blankets.

"Now go to sleep." He said, softening his tone.

They then rode in silence, save for the bard's quiet strumming, the occasional snort of the horses and the constant creak of the wooden carts as they moved along the snow strewn gravel road. After a time, Roche tilted his head back, heard her quiet, adorable snore and looked over to his fellow husbands.

"Wow, Roche. I'm impressed." Geralt said quietly. "What's this "without question" business?"

Vernon grinned. "She told me that she wanted to obey me without question; that I radiate authority. So I used it. Fairly sure she's going to regret saying that now."

"Oh, how wrong you are." Regis said with a soft chuckle. "Well done though, Vernon. I don't like having to take a firm hand with her. Well, unless of course it's part of my own private time with our spouse. So I'm pleased she decided to listen and not give you attitude."

"Yeah, it seems she only really argues with me." Geralt said, shaking his head. "Stubborn woman."

"There's a reason for that, Geralt." Dandelion said, plucking the lute strings. "Surely you know?"

"Probably. But do enrich my knowledge of the fairer sex; since you're so wise in the ways of the pussy." The Witcher replied to all of their amusement.

"Mind the language." Regis said quietly. "We do have small ears in back."

"Ah, how right you are. However, this is very plain to see. You're a master huntsman and she's a wolf. Well, in part." The bard continued. "It's part of her nature to defy you, just as equally as she wants to give in to you. Women do that all the time. The whole yes, no means yes thing. Bloody hell it's confusing at times though."

"Yeah, but let's face it, gents. It's hot." Roche said. "Come on, admit it, Wolf. You like it when she lips off to you. And you like it when you overpower her."

The White Wolf's look said it all and he conceded with a nod.

"Yeah, yeah." He admitted. "Well, she at least knows when not to push it. A firm look and Root tends to surrender easily."

"Indeed." Regis said. "Oh, and Geralt. We will need to stop before too long. Not only for a rest and stretch, but I will need to feed her. I don't want her to be in any way low on energy when we reach your school."

Vernon glanced over with a look of confusion. "Feed her? Ahh, the whole energy vampire thing? She feeds now?"

"Yes. I suppose you aren't fully in the know about that are you." The vampire replied. "Although I'm supposing you saw her siphoning energy from me the other day, near the cart?"

"I saw her skin had that gold sheen to it, yeah. Interesting. How does that feel when she does it?" Roche asked.

"It's not painful. But I would advise you not to let her feed from you, Vernon. She's not yet learned how to um, shut it off, when she starts. And well, not to put too fine a point on it but, she could kill you. Quickly. Without meaning to of course. Geralt here let her feed from him for only, what was it a few minutes? And even he, with his heightened endurance and physical strength, was weakened. That goes for you too, Dandelion. I'm sorry to have to say this, but your weak constitution means you'd be dead in moments." The vampire explained. "As for how it feels, well it's like…a channel is opened wherever she touches and your vital energy just rushes into her hands like water through a floodgate. It's amazing and it doesn't affect me negatively because of my own unique nature. But to others it could very well be deadly."

"Understood." Roche said, and the bard nodded as well.

"You lot arf more strange than I efer would've imagined." Errol said from the opposite side of the carriage, and they all laughed heartily, startling Root into wakefulness.

She sat up in the back of Roche's cart and rubbed her eyes, yawning. Root had only been asleep for about an hour but she felt a tremendous thirst and longing and looked over to Regis.

"I'm sorry we woke you, love." Emiel said. "Geralt, perhaps we can stop now and have a quick stretch?"

The riders and drivers all reigned up their horses, and those that were awake hopped down and had a walk about, keeping close to the lights of the caravan. Errol checked on Valonna and the little ones, while Regis climbed up into the back of Vernon's cart, sitting next to Root.

"It's…it's so strong, Regis." She said quietly, glancing around to see if anyone was near.

"I understand. It's all right, Root." He said, lacing his fingers with hers. "Are you too sleepy to get some energy from me?"

"No." she answered and started to siphon, sighing as it filled her. "Mmmm, you taste so good."

The vampire smiled at her in his way and carressed her cheek.

"Just think, my dear. Soon we'll have a proper bed to sleep on. With clean sheets, a warm, heavy comforter for you to lie back on…yes, there you go, lay back. And a lovely fireplace and a bath…warm and wet…" he said and bit his wrist, holding it to her mouth as she reclined on the pillow next to him. "And you can enjoy a long, deep, peaceful rest…cradled in my arms."

Root's lips gently sucked on his opened wound, the thirst instantly being quenched, her mind floating into that exquiste haze as darkness tugged at her. To his surprise she didn't drink much, and Regis felt her lips go slack and the siphoning cease after just a few minutes. Curious he lifted her lip and saw the tiny fangs just like before and he smiled, fascinated.

"Yes, sleep now, Root. All through the night. You're safe and warm, fed and happy. Surrounded by your mates and friends." He said softly, covering her and giving her a kiss.

"Ready?" Geralt said, climbing back into the carriage driver seat. "All right then. Let's all settle in for a steady but long night's ride. Should be quiet. Nothing here to fear. But stay sharp. Git up there, boys."

And with another tap of the reigns, the company set off into the darkness once again. Leading them was the great Witcher, Geralt of Rivia. And following him was a group of misfits and outcasts; an ancient vampire and the barber-surgeon of Dillingen, who lived like a human, forsook blood, and fooled even animals by the constant scent of herbs; a tiny band of aen seidhe refugees, led by a marksman of unequaled skill with a now permanent if slight speech impedient; the commander of an elite force of exiled soldiers, who were content to follow their leader wherever he went with the witcher, and the werewolf he'd fallen in love with; Master Dandelion, the greatest bard of that age, who'd promised them all, or perhaps threatened, to tell this strange tale in a song one day; and Root, the wild wolf-born woman of the southern woodland realm who knew next to nothing of the world, retaining a child-like wonder and sometimes attitude when it came to listening to those with more experience than she. But all of them loved one another in their own way, were devoted to the company, and would follow the White Wolf into the very jaws of a dragon if he asked them too.


	61. Chapter 61

Chapter 61 (another long one, friends. hang in there.)

* * *

The night passed just as the Witcher had said, quietly and without incident. And as dawn broke over the eastern edge of the great mountain range, Geralt reigned in the team so that everyone could have another stretch, relieve themselves, and get the kids a bite to eat. Root slid down from the cart and stretched, rubbing her shoulders.

"It's colder today." She said, going to the river to fill the canteen.

Behind them she could see dark clouds in the distance; grey wisps hanging like silvery curtains, bearing with them the promise of rain or snow. The moutains of the Morhen range were young, still rising, and loomed over them as Root admired the landscape. Primeval, wild and pristine, carpeted with fragrant pines and rocky moss laden ridges, she could see herself living in such a place for the rest of her days. Vernon Roche approached and hugged her from behind, softly kissing her neck.

"Sleep well?" he said and she squealed quietly, turning to face him.

"Yes, sir." Root replied in a sensuous voice, gazing into his eyes. "That was very naughty."

He laughed playfully and admired her, stunning the woman by the depth of kindness she saw in his pale blues; a softness that appeared, and was rarely seen on the face of the veteran who'd recently lost the king he'd sworn to protect, and the very soil of his homeland to invading Nilfgaard. Roche leaned forward, drew her mouth to his and they embraced in the light of dawn. Vernon was gentle, almost delicate when he touched her, which Root found to be in stark contrast to the hardness and strength that she knew was in him. She found it to be a lovely balance.

He closed his eyes and sighed, letting her rest against his chest.

"Ah, you liked it. Besides, you should do as the White Wolf says. You ought to know by now that if Geralt asks you to do something, it's for your good. And he is your husband." Roche said.

Root gazed up at him curiously. "Do wives always obey their husbands in the great cities?"

Vernon considered his response for a moment, running his hand through her short hair.

"Well, traditionally, yes. Always? No. But it is customary in most human cities that the man is head of the household. But of course it can vary from place to place, culture to culture as well." He replied.

Root thought about his reply and tilted her head.

"You think I should obey Geralt because he's a man?" she asked.

"Well, no. Not exactly. You shouldn't just obey _any_ man. But let me ask you this. When you do obey him, why is that? Isn't it because he's your mate?" Roche asked.

Root shook her head.

"No. It's because I want to. And…well…"

"Because I'm a witcher." Geralt said, walking up. "Cutting in, Roche."

Vernon nodded and walked off to help Dandelion and Valonna get a quick meal made, while Regis had gone to gather some herbs by the riverbank. Geralt hugged the forest maiden to his strong chest and kissed the top of her head.

"Learning about humans and how they live their married lives?" he asked, his golden eyes playful.

Root shrugged. "Vernon is human and comes from a grand city. I am curious about how he thinks relationships should work."

"I think he's content with it working in whatever way makes us all happy. Not to say we won't ever have moments of contention but, I can't really see it. But its true isn't it, you do listen to me because of my profession don't you?" he asked.

The werewolf smiled shyly and lowered her gaze.

"Yes. But…"

"But you also defy me for the same reason." He answered for her.

Root looked up at her handsome witcher and gazed into his eyes, pressing herself against his lean, muscled body. She slid her hands down his leathered sides, riding along his waist and hips. She touched her nose to his, gently nuzzling.

"I like it when you're frustrated at me. I like that firm look in your gorgeous golden eyes. And I like it when you overwhelm me." She whispered, making him growl with satisfaction.

Geralt slid his gloved hand up the center of her body and encircled her throat, lightly gripping her, holding her gaze.

"Just don't push too hard, Root." He replied, enjoying the slight look of hesitation as he squeezed her windpipe for only a second. "Ole Dandelion was right. Makes me wonder what he does with the women he fancies. Come on, we still need to keep ahead of that storm."

When the children had all been fed and taken for bathroom trips in the woods, everyone climbed up into their places and they set off. Around noon, the winds really picked up, blowing the already fallen snow across the road, making small drifts. Luckily the mighty Temerian horses pulled the carriage right through, and the carts had to follow along behind in the wider track, or risk getting lodged. Valonna, Dandelion, Root and the children were all cramped inside the back of the carriage whilst Geralt, Roche, Errol and the sentries rode on, wrapping their heavy cloaks about them for warmth and donning gloves. The temperatures plummeted and the vampire hoped Vernon and Errol were staying warm behind them.

"How much further, Geralt?" Emiel Regis asked over the wind.

"About another hour. Damn, I thought we'd beat this. I can barely see twenty feet ahead." He answered. "I'll have to trust the horses to keep to the road."

But within half an hour, the storm was upon them in earnest, bringing with it the heaviest snowfall and coldest temperatures the Witchers' company had felt yet. Inside the carriage, the three adults huddled around the elven children, keeping them warm and content, but all could feel the bone numbing cold seeping through.

"This isn't normal." Geralt said softly, glancing at Regis. "Something is wrong."

The vampire stood up on the drivers' seat and looked around, seeing snow flying in every direction. Squinting, he could just make out the other carts following behind, and the mounted soldiers and sentries behind them. There came then a whistle, and one of the soldiers dropped into the snow. In the distance, but gaining ground, Emiel Regis saw a pale blue glow and shadowy, canine-like figures loping alongside massive steeds.

"It's the Hunt!" the vampire called. "He summoning the White Frost! RUN!"

"Shit!" Geralt cursed and snapped the reigns. "YA!"

Another one of the mounted sentries fell to his death, a black fletched arrow having pierced him right through the skull between the eyes. One of the elven sentries raced up alongside Speaker Errol's cart and deftly leapt in beside their leader, taking the reigns. Errol Dorren Ysengith of the Bald Mountain people jumped into the back of the cart, threw down his winter gloves, drew his Brokilon longbow to his cheek, corrected for wind and precipitation, and loosed an arrow, felling one of the mounted warriors nearly two hundred yards back. He drew again, pausing to let the mighty bow build strength and took aim at the lead rider, loosing again. The shaft slammed into Imlerith's shoulder but the behemoth aen elle kept riding hard, spurring his mount forward.

"Bring that archer down!" Eredin, King of the Hunt, growled as another one of their hounds rolled into the snow.

Imlerith raised the visor on his dread helm, nocked an arrow back and let loose, aiming straight for the elven Speaker. But Errol was a master and caught the arrow mid-flight, turned in a tight circle, nocked and fluidly returned the unwelcome gift, felling the massive warrior, unseating him from his steed. The skull faced helm of Eredin glared at him, and the elf could feel the anger in that menacing stare, even at a distance. The Speaker turned and fired again, each shot deadly, piercing the ghostly riders until at last only the King and the Navigator were pursuing them. But inside the carriage…

"D, you stay with Val and the kids." Root said, hurridly undressing.

Having heard who their pursuers were, she then leapt from the back of the carriage, the wild woman shifting and landing at a full run in the snow, racing back towards the Wild Hunt.

"ROOT, NO!" Regis yelled, his voice nearly lost in the howling wind.

 _It's me they're after, and I can't let them get close to the children. Run, my love._ She thought to him. _It's my turn to protect you._

The werewolf raced up alongside Errol's cart and she locked eyes with him. The elf immediately understood.

"KEEP GOING!" he yelled to his sentry and then leapt off, landing on Root's shoulders.

"Fet's get em, bleidd beanna." he whispered, patting her side and she roared, racing toward the Red Riders, her paws pounding the ground

Eredin and Caranthir both reigned up their horses as the werewolf and her elven rider raced between them at break neck speed. Errol turned gracefully and felled the last of their hounds. The King growled and sharply turned his shrieking mount about, spurring it after their quarry. Imlerith had since gotten to his feet after being unseated. As he looked up, he saw piercing pine green eyes lock onto his, and she seemed to slowly lope toward him like something out of a ghostly, snow filled dream. Upon her back sat Errol Dorren and it confused the aen alle for a moment that an elf was riding toward him on an ulfhedinn werewolf. The marksman then slammed an arrow right into the Commanders' eyesocket, laying the once great general low, his blood pooling on the frost summoned by his liege.

Root glanced over her shoulder, seeing the carts in the distance still racing toward the keep and both the King of the Hunt and his remaining general riding hard after her. Eredin raised his fist and ice crystals seemed to churn about the otherworldly sovereign. The werewolf could hear a rushing sound, like a tornado was pursuing them, and knew it was the Frost. At the last minute she bolted, making a sharp turn with Errol gripping her fur tightly. The Speaker nocked his bow and fired at Eredin himself, who was forced to veer to the side to avoid being punctured. The icy blast grazed the werewolf's side and she roared in pain as it burned, leaving frozen crystal shards on her dark brown fur.

"I want her alive! Kill that damned aen seidhe!" Eredin roared.

"There's the keep!" Geralt called. "They see us and have opened the portcullis!"

Geralt drove the carriage straight into Kaer Morhen's courtyard, followed by both Vernon Roche and the elven sentry driving Errol's cart. He was scared for Root and furious at the Wild Hunt, but the forest maiden had point; as Regis had passed it onto him, she did what she did for the children, and Geralt agreed that he had to get them to safety first. And he knew that Errol had been thinking along the same lines, as the elven Speaker had joined her in providing a distraction and defense. Eskel, Lambert and Vesemir rushed to them as the horses huffed and frothed, biting their bits as the Witcher reined them up sharply.

"Geralt, what's going on?! Who are these people?" Vesemir asked.

"No, time, Ves! Dandelion, stay with Valonna and the children. Get them warm, quickly." Geralt said, whistling for his mare.

Vernon unhitched his chestnut stallion, Regis mounted one of the remaining horses and the three men raced back out of the keep, thundering over the bridge, spurring their steeds to full speed.

The werewolf loped, darted and rushed around the two masters of the Wild Hunt, dodging in and out of trees, confusing and frightening their steeds with her mighty roar and snapping, glistening jaws. Eredin's mount had been pierced several times by the master marksmans' arrows and was tiring quickly, as was Caranthir's. In the distance, the dread riders could hear the sound of fast approaching hooves and without their entourage, the lord of the aen alle was not willing to risk a full fledged confrontation with the Witcher, a higher vampire, a werewolf and their companions. Eredin jerked the reigns of his mount and reared, pointing at her.

"Until we meet again, luned bleidd. Open the portal!" he declared in his hollow voice.

And they vanished into Caranthir's whirling gate of light, leaving the werewolf and the elf both panting heavily and shivering. Errol patted her side and they turned and raced toward the keep. Geralt saw them approaching and as Root met his gaze she saw fury, but she couldn't worry about it right then. Errol was tiring and cold and she needed to get him to safety. She raced between their horses while they wheeled about and followed.

Root bounded into the courtyard, completely forgetting about where she was, and Errol swiftly dismounted, running to Valonna's side as she flew out of the door that led into the kitchen.

"What in the…!? Restrain that beast!" Vesemir yelled as the three witchers fell upon the werewolf.

"No! Ves, wait!" Geralt called out as he raced inside, followed by Regis and Roche.

But the old masters' eyes were fierce and silenced the great White Wolf with one look. Eskel curled his fingers into a sign and held it over Root's head.

"No, don't!" Regis warned, but it was too late.

Eskel roared in pain as the spell that shielded Root's mind from axii sent him stumbling back, howling, and holding his scarred forehead. Root shifted back and was instantly grabbed by Lambert who painfully twisted her arms behind her back, making the woman cry out in agony, it feeling like he was tearing her shoulders out of their sockets.

"Bleidd beanna!" Cera yelled and the little elven child came running across the yard, but Valonna scooped her up. "No, mama! They hurt bleidd! Stop them!"

"I don't mean you any ha…" Root cried.

But Vesemir thumped Root hard right between the eyes and the woman was silenced and went limp.

"Lock it in silver." The old master growled and Lambert took her away.

"Master, please…" Geralt said.

"You bring a monster to this house, Geralt!" Vesemir roared, his voice filled with fury.

"If you'd just listen…" the White Wolf growled, his companions coming to stand with him.

"Not now. Be glad I don't throw these people out into the cold. But I recognize who was tailing you so I won't. Get inside then. Get them fed and warm and I'll send for you later."

"Master Vesemir, if you please, let me go with Root. She…" Regis began.

"No. You stay away from it. I mean it. That monster stays in the dungeons until I'm ready to deal with it. Be grateful I let it live." Vesemir said and turned away.

* * *

Slowly the world came into focus and Root groaned softly as her skull flared with pain and her wrists burned. Opening her eyes she blinked and heard the rattle of metal as she sat up. She'd been locked into silver manacles that were attached to a chain, and bolted to an iron grate on the cell floor. It was freezing in the dungeon. And where water had dripped in from above, now there was a frozen shard of ice in the corner of the cell, radiating cold onto her naked body.

"Hello?! Please, I…I don't mean you any harm!" she called out, her voice echoing down the stone halls. "REGIS! GERALT!"

* * *

The vampire could hear her in his mind and it pained him as he felt her fear. He looked over to their small company, who'd been ushered into a large bedroom with a fireplace and plenty of food and blankets. Regis could understand why Vesemir was angry; a party of unknown visitors had just raced into the ancient Wolf School of the witchers with a werewolf; a place for seasoned warriors whose only trade was the killing of monsters. The higher vampire wasn't afraid for himself, for he knew Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert weren't aware of him, treating Root as the only threat. The elves all stayed together, the children were quiet, and Errol paced nervously by the window, rubbing his hands that once again had the beginnings of frostbite.

 _REGIS_! He heard her cry out for him again, and he sighed heavily.

Vernon saw the man's face and looked to the Witcher, who was standing silently, leaning against the mantle, his golden eyes burning. He knew better than to cross the old witcher, especially whilst they stood on the grounds of the school. Emiel Regis reached into his linen bag and walked over to Errol, handing him the healing cream.

"Well, I can help one of you at least. Here you are." Regis said kindly. "What happened out there?"

Errol Dorren turned and looked at the vampire, then the Witcher.

"The Hunt is one fess general." He said calmly, rubbing some of the herbal ointment into his frosty hands.

Geralt slowly turned his head, his eyes disbelieving. Regis gasped and Vernon just remained silent.

"Fee was amazing. Such speed. You should ve proud, Gwynbleidd. Twas my arrow that unseated the mighty Imlerith, true; but it vas her swiftness that gave me the shot to end him. Root ran circles around them. The ulfhedinn are truly remarkable compared to their continental kin."

But the White Wolf said nothing and returned to staring into the fire. Regis heard Root call out for him and noticed the weakness in her thoughts.

"Geralt, Root is freezing in the dungeons. How long will Vesemir leave her there?" the vampire asked.

"I don't know." He grumbled.

They all turned as Eskel walked in then, his badly scarred face unreadable.

"The master wants you, White Wolf. The rest of you are to remain here." He said as Vernon and and Regis turned.

Geralt stormed out, leaving the company to wonder about the werewolf's fate. Dandelion looked at Emiel Regis and the vampire could tell the poet was horrified by what he thought was going to happen.

"They're going to kill her." He whispered, a sob catching in his throat.

Vernon rose and went to the door, but found that they'd been locked in. Furious he slammed his fist into the wood. The children looked frightened so the Viziman calmed himself and paced.

"This wasn't at all the calm entry we'd been hoping for." Regis said softly. "A curse upon the Wild Hunt. Well, at least they are one elf down now. Well done, Speaker."

"They kill bleidd beanna?!" little Cera asked, tears filling the small girls' eyes. "Mama, no! No let them! Tell them be nice like Gwynbleidd! Tell them!"

Valonna held the brave girl in her arms as she cried. Cera had been the first of them to befriend the wolf woman on another night, now some weeks ago, when again the Hunt had pursued the daughter of Curamil. The elven mother looked at Emiel Regis.

"Will they?" she asked as Errol held her shoulder.

"Geralt won't allow that. The greater danger is the cold." He replied. "We just have to wait."

* * *

"What has gotten into you, Wolf? You bring a beast like that into these ancient halls!" Vesemir asked, facing Geralt with crossed arms. "Well? Explain yourself."

The three men stood in the masters' chambers. The young and brash Lambert, silent and scarred Eskel, and Vesemir himself, the headmaster and eldest member of the Wolf School; who looked more like a grandfather in those days, yet was matchless in his swordsmanship and use of signs. Anyone who mistook him for a tottering old fool made that mistake only once. The White Wolf's keen ears heard Root cry out for him from the dungeons below.

"It's a long story, master. May I please just go to her? Once she's warm and calmed down I promise I'll explain." Geralt said, doing his best to contain his anger.

"Warm and calmed down? What is she a baby? Enough of this shit. Just let me kill it already." Lambert said with a boastful swagger, cracking his knucles with Eskel smirking alongside him. "Can I take it into the training yard? Chain it up for practice?"

Vesemir glanced at the young men and then at Geralt. "I should you know. Good alchemical ingredients could be harvested from it as well."

"HER!" Geralt roared, slamming his fist onto the desk, splintering the wood, his eyes glowing like molten gold. "Root is a her! Not an it!"

The three other witchers were shocked, but remained silent. The only sound was the snapping of the logs in the fireplace.

"Lambert, Eskel, leave. See to the others." Vesemir said, his eyes never leaving Geralt's.

When the door had closed behind them, the old witcher waited patiently. Geralt paced around the masters' chambers, throwing his gloves onto the mantle. Then, starting from the beginning, he explained how he'd met the wolf woman of the woods and much of what had happened to them, leaving out little, save for the unique nature of Emiel Regis and events surrounding his personal involvement with Root, as well as several details concerning Vernon Roche. The old man settled himself in a chair after a time and listened quietly until the White Wolf had finished.

There was a long silence between master and student. Vesemir considered the story Geralt had told him and, while it seemed incredible, even unbelievable in parts, he knew the White Wolf was not one to spin yarns or outright lie, to him or anyone. The old witcher got up and tossed another log into the flames, while Geralt stood quietly, waiting.

"Of all my students," Vesemir began, shaking his head. "You are the greatest. How could you do this? You gave our methods of fighting to a monster? The very skills designed to hunt them down could now be used against us, Wolf! What were you thinking? And not just a typical werewolf but according to your story something else, something…worse it would seem. How, Wolf? How could you do this? How can I see this as anything but a betrayal of everything I've ever taught you?"

"Don't you think I've thought of that?!" Geralt retorted. "It tore me apart for days because I couldn't turn her over to Falithe. Could you, master? Does a werewolf deserve to be raped and sexually abused by a sick, twisted mage only to end up as one of his rugs? I can't even see Lambert doing something that low, let alone you."

Vesemir remained silent, considering his words.

"And look at us!" Geralt continued. "We're three witchers living alone in a broken down old fortress and we're not getting any younger. You've been out there in the world; you've seen that monsters are not always the ones with fangs or fur. Some of the worst beasts of our day are humans. Yet Root is one of the kindest, most gentle souls I have ever met, who happens to be the daughter of a werewolf. She is eager to learn and has come so far in the short weeks I have been training her. If I'm your greatest student then have a little more trust in me would you?"

"Are you bonded with her?" Vesemir asked, catching Geralt off guard.

"I...Yes. I am. And…"

"And what?"

"It's…complicated. Regis is technically her…first." Wolf said, running a hand through his white hair.

"I'm not even going to try and figure out what that means. All right, I trust you. But so help me, Geralt, if she so much as breathes in a direction or manner I don't like, I'll kill…her…myself. Understood?" Vesemir said.

* * *

Root had moved as far away from the ice in the cell as the chains would allow and had curled up on the dirty floor, shivering, too cold to cry anymore. She heard the iron door open with a frightening shriek and tried to open her eyes, but realized then that her tears had frozen them shut. She heard booted feet walk toward her and panic started to rise but then…

"Root." Spoke a familiar deep voice.

His breath rolled over her face like a warm, summer wind, bringing the tiniest bit of relief as she felt strong hands embrace her.

"Gerrralttt…" she croaked weakly, her lips blue from cold.

"Shh shh, come on." He said once Vesemir had unlocked the manacles and he lifted her into his arms.

"I…I ccccan't ssssee…" she said, her body shuddering against his. "I can't feel mmy ttoes or ffffin..gg..ers."

The Witcher wanted to glare at his mentor but restrained himself. Vesemir did not look the least bit concerned or upset about the werewolf's condition and simply left the dungeon. Geralt carried her up to the bedroom and Eskel unlocked the door, causing all within the look over. Emiel leapt to his feet, horrified by the state she was in and was instantly by Geralt's side. Vernon was red with fury and wanted to punch something.

"Keep the children over there. They don't need to see." Geralt said quietly with a nod to Valonna and the Speaker.

"Lay her here." Regis said as the Witcher put her into the bed and and began stripping himself.

"Rrr…eegg..is…." Root said softly, hearing his voice and she began to cry. But no tears could leak from her frozen lids.

"I'm here, my love. Oh, my days, Geralt, her hands." Regis said, accepting the jar of cream from Errol. "Thank you, Speaker."

The Witcher climbed into bed and cursed as he embraced her icy body. Regis smeared the frostbite cream onto Root's fingers and toes, her ears and the tip of her nose, all of which were showing signs of frostbite. He wiped his hands on his robes and sat next to them.

"And they call us monsters." He muttered angrily. "Vernon, can you warm some of that water in the basin please?"

The soldier brought the heated water and Regis tore a piece off his cloak to use as a rag. He soaked it and gently massaged Root's frozen skin. Geralt held her close, pressing up against her back. She slowly opened her eyes, the tears at last being able to flow freely down her pale, cold cheeks that held chattering teeth.

"I…mmmy…hands…soo cccold…"

"I know. You're with us now, sweetheart. Geralt will get you warm. We're all here and safe. Yes, the children are fine. And Dandelion, yes. Errol too. Shh just rest." He said quietly.

Geralt's body heat radiated into the woman, but it still took a long time for her to stop shivering. Finally, after about two hours, Root drifted off to sleep in the Witchers' arms. Regis sighed and paced around the room, checking on the others. Vernon then came and sat on the bedside, the hunter not needing to open his eyes to know who it was.

"Hey. You all right, Wolf?" Roche asked quietly.

"Better now." He said, kissing Root's shoulder. "Not exactly the way I'd planned to break it to them."

"That was very brave of her to fend them off. I think that frost would've done the children a great harm had it caught up with us." The soldier said, lightly touching Root's hair.

Geralt nodded, knowing the truth of Vernon's words.

"Speaking of which. Regis?" the Witcher called, and the vampire came to him. "Did you see this?"

The White Wolf uncovered her and showed him the dark mark that ran from under the right breast, down her right side and wrapped around her lower back like someone had taken a brush and painted her with a wide stroke of bruise.

"I did." He said sadly. "There's nothing I can do for that. The White Frost touched her there. She'll have that mark for life I'm afraid."

Geralt covered her back up and she stirred, opening her eyes to see Vernon sitting in front of her, with Regis standing beside him.

"Hey…." She said softly, reaching for Vernon's hand.

The commander gazed back at her with his lovely pale blues and smiled.

"Someone needs to rest." He said quietly. "We made it. Because of you and Errol, we escaped and made it here, Root."

"Did everyone make it?" Root asked.

The three men exchanged looks.

"Sadly, no. We lost some of Errol's men and a few of my soldiers as well." Roche answered.

"Struck down by Imlerith." Regis replied. "But we understand that you and the Speaker took care of that particular aen elle. But I must insist you sleep, my dear. Physicians orders. We, all of us, could use some rest until we figure out our situation here."

"I will." She said, and rolled over to face the Witcher.

Geralt looked back at her, his golden eyes shining in the light of the bedside candle. And he remembered another night, lying beside her in the darkness. The same night he'd let himself confess to Regis that he loved the same woman as he.

"So here we are again. Only in not quite a palace this time." He said quietly.

"You're mad aren't you?" Root said, her fingers curling against his chest.

"I was. Just scared for you. More angry at the Wild Hunt. I figured they'd be back, just didn't know when. But you need to rest. Regis said so." The hunter said, kissing her forehead.

"But what about your master? Is he…will he…"

"He's not going to hurt you, Root. But I'd stay out of their way for a while. We'll get through this. Spring is coming and that always brings with it fresh air, new beginnings. I think many good things are coming this next year. We'll get the elves settled in their new home, and help them rebuild. You and Regis will have plenty of opportunity to harvest herbs and plants from the valley and some of the caves around here. Vernon and I will continue your training and we'll be safe from the Imperator, the Hunt, religious zealots and anyone who would want to hurt us. So you can sleep my wild woman."

"Mhm, but what if…" she began.

Geralt chuckled quietly. "So you tell Regis you'll sleep, but then keep talking when I tell you to. Well, that's just typical isn't it?"

Vernon, who was still sitting at the bedside, pulled the covers up over her shoulder, leaned down and put his mouth right to Root's ear.

"Right now." He ordered and kissed her temple.

Barely a second later, Root's eyes closed, and her whole body relaxed against Geralt's, her fingers instantly ceasing to fidget in their usual way. Both men looked at each other.

"Well, that was…"

Regis cleared his throat. The healer was seated in a high backed chair, turning the pages of an ancient leather-bound book on witcher history, with the firelight catching his dark eyes as he looked up and over to them.

"Amateurs." He said, smiling at them in his mysterious, veiled way.


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62

* * *

The following day, the elves and Roche's men were each shown to separate quarters of their own. The old witcher was a completely different man around the children and soon won over the their little hearts with sweets from the kitchen and letting them have run of the keep so long as they stayed within the walls and out of restricted rooms. Valonna and Errol were wary at first, but it would seem that Geralt spoke truly; Vesemir was not in the least bit concerned over their heritage.

The soldiers and sentries too were grateful for the accommodations. Geralt, Regis and Vernon, however, would not leave Root's side for very long. But that morning, while she still slept, the three men were gathered together in Vesemir's chambers with Eskel and Lambert. Dandelion remained at her side; because of course, the famous bard needed no introduction.

"Alright, Wolf, you explained your story with the woman. But what are you doing here in the first place, with all these others with you?" the old man asked.

Geralt explained how he'd met the elves on a hunting trip and, seeing an opportunity for work, accepted the job of acting as their protector as they moved to a new home.

"Which originally was going to be in the direction of Oxenfurt but, we have since made a few enemies in Redania so…" Geralt began.

"I'm sorry, come again?" Vesemir asked.

"We, meaning Root and I, had encountered some members of the Eternal Fire when out searching for a missing member on a bitter cold morning. She humiliated their leader and drove them off. But that made Radovid pretty angry so he worked with the Imperator to get at her." Geralt said, choosing to remain silent about Vernon Roche. But…

"Wait a minute. Nilfgaardian territory is far, far south of here. And it strikes me as odd that King Radovid would work with Emhyr, he hates the man."

"Nilfgaard is closer now than you think. Temeria has fallen to the Black Sun." Roche said darkly.

"What?!" Lambert exclaimed. "That's not far from here. Are they pursuing you?"

Vesemir looked to the White Wolf and his companions.

"Certain people were." Regis replied. "And now certain people are not. Whether a second attack will be mounted, who can say?"

"Do they know where you've gone?" Eskel asked quietly.

"No. Of that I am certain." Geralt answered. "Could they wager a guess? Sure. But it's just as likely that we'd go anywhere else so…"

"But they know you're with the group, Wolf." Ves said, giving his student a hard look. "I'll bet my last coin that they know. Still, a single witcher is one thing. A keep of the best the Wolf School has to offer is quite another. Well, go on then, what else?"

"That's more or less it. We fled here because it was the closest point of safety from where we were camped. And I want to continue Root's training so…"

"No." Vesemir replied and the room fell silent.

Geralt bristled at the reply but remained calm.

"Master, please…"

"No, White Wolf. And that's final. These skills are for hunting her kind, not helping them. I refuse to allow these timeless tools of our trade to be passed onto a monster." He said, raising his hand when Geralt went to argue. "Kind as she may be, she is a beast inside. You've seen what happens when werewolves lose control of themselves; the rage, and the blood-lust."

All three men exchanged looks and were silent. Geralt remembered Root's green eyes as she stared him down at the palace, not knowing him, snarling and baring her fangs. And Roche's ribs seemed to throb.

"Yes, you see, you know it yourselves." The old one continued. "Which of you has felt her claws?"

"That doesn't matter. And there are reasons for it that you're refusing to hear out." Geralt said softly. "And besides, we all love her."

"What in the fuck does that mean?" Lambert said, his voice dripping with disgust.

"What do you mean "we"?" Eskel asked, equally disturbed.

"He means just that, sirs." Regis answered calmly. "We, the three of us, are her husbands and she is our wife. We will not leave her, no matter the unique circumstances of her nature. If, you would kindly let me finish. Root controlled her transformations for years with herbal tonics, choosing to forego doing what she loves, running wild and free in the forest, so she wouldn't be a danger to others. And she never was. A danger, that is. When we met, things changed for her; drastically so. And yes, she's had a time of it adjusting to living among others. But I promise you, Master Vesemir, she will not harm anyone here."

"You can't have a relationship with an animal!" Lambert cried, throwing his hands up. "Oh, this is just gross. I'm out."

The youngest of their trade left, slamming the chamber door behind him, but the scar-marked Eskel remained, although he was clearly equally upset by the confession. Vesemir sighed.

"And who are you, sir?" the old one asked.

"My name is Emiel Regis." The vampire replied with a courteous bow. "It's an honor to stand before the eldest of the Wolf School. I only wish it were under more pleasant circumstances."

Vesemir nodded, graciously accepting the comment.

"Regis, eh?" Ves said glancing at Geralt. "So you're first among these gentlemen then are you? What makes you so certain she won't hurt anyone?"

"Because of the bond I have with her. Forgive me but it is very intimate and I will say no more about it save this. Root is incapable of harming anyone if I disallow it. And yes, I am her primary mate, erm, husband."

"Disallow?" Eskel asked, crossing his arms, giving Regis a curious look. "What are you a mage of sorts? Do you have her on some sort of magical leash?"

"That's a dreadful way to understand it from my perspective. But, for lack of a better explanation, yes. I hold her…leash." Regis replied.

Vesemir paced around the room, thinking about all he'd learned over the last day since the Witchers' company had arrived at his doorstep.

"So you turn up at home with the emperor of half the world pissed off at you, as well as the king of Redania. Well at least that sounds like you, Geralt. I wonder, did Dandelion's mouth have anything to do with that? And what about the elves? What's your plan for them?" he asked, leaning on the mantle.

"The aen seidhe just want a new place to settle. When spring comes, I was going to lead them further into the northern mountains and rebuild the old homestead there. Raise up a few more simple houses to start with, maybe bring some sheep and goats down from the high country so they'll have meat and milk." The White Wolf answered.

"What do you think this is, Wolf, a charity?" Vesemir asked, but wore a kindly smile.

"Our help shouldn't end when the monsters are dead." Geralt replied. "But we can talk about stuff like that later."

"Oh, so you still believe in killing monsters do you? I started to wonder." Ves said, but seeing Geralt's face fall he regretted the comment instantly.

"Ah, forget an old man's curmudgeonry. Alright, you and your charges can stay. But I mean it, Wolf, no more training…her. This, Root. Master Regis was it? I'm charging you with keeping her under control. And you. You've been rather quiet this whole time. Who are you?"

"I cannot and will not tell you that, sir." Vernon replied calmly, his blue eyes veiled, unreadable.

Vesemir raised an eyebrow. "Sir is it? So you're a soldier then. Well, you bloody well are too going to tell me or you'll…"

"Nor will I be leaving her side. Sir. I'm sure you can work it out what that will mean if you want to press me on my identity." Roche replied.

Eskel grinned, recognizing another quiet hard ass with the slightest of nods.

"Master, it's for your own safety that you not know." Geralt said, giving Roche a look. "He's a master blades-man, tactician and a trusted friend. I'd put my life in his hands if I needed to. And he too is with Root so, he's not going anywhere."

"All three of you really love her that much?" Vesemir asked. "What is the world coming to? Fine. Eskel, open the stairwell to the balcony room above the master suite. That should be enough space and beds for one woman and her…three…husbands to be close together. I can't believe I'm even saying that. We'll talk more later, gentleman."

* * *

When Regis returned to Root's bedside, he tossed another log into the fireplace and opened the heavy curtains on the window to let in what light was to be had. The blizzard Valonna had predicted continued to rage outside the walls, the crystalline snowflakes piling up on the heavy glass panes. And the wind howled as if the Wild Hunt's fury over being denied their quarry once again could be heard. The ancient vampire was still amazed when he considered that Imlerith, Commander of the Hunt, had been slain. The massively powerful aen elle was much of their muscle and Regis figured that Eredin would not soon forget the master marksmen and his lupine mount. Touching his temple, he woke Root from her deep sleep and she sighed, opening her eyes and smiling as he came to sit by her side.

"Hey." He said softly, running his hand down her cheek. "You need to get some food and water in you, my love. Up you get."

Root sat up and swung her legs around, testing her still tender toes and wincing slightly.

"Wait, Regis? Can…can I feed from you?" she asked.

"Of course. But you should eat solid food as well." He replied, entwining their fingers.

The woman closed her eyes and Regis felt her begin the draw, the vitality flowing through their hands. She then placed her other hand on his chest and drew straight from his heart, the vampire still finding it curious how that felt, and her skin began to glow.

"You are such a radiant being, Root." He said, his voice full of admiration. "Well, look at that. Well done."

Regis watched as her frostbitten extremities all healed before his very eyes, glowing with golden light as energy raced through her body. Root opened her eyes and his own dark orbs stared back at him, the vampire seeing how his gaze could indeed be both inviting and terrifying at the same time. She smiled and he chuckled slightly, turning her toward a mirror; in which she could see herself, but of course the true higher vampire was not reflected in the glass.

"Now you know why I purse my lips when I smile. Well, most of the time." He said and she laughed quietly, gently touching the fangs in her mouth, which receded almost as quickly as they'd appeared the moment she stopped feeding. "Are you finding it easier to control the draw?"

She nodded. "Yes. Although you taste so wonderful that it's hard to quit. It…it makes me want to try other kinds of energy, erm…vitality, too."

Emiel nodded, understanding completely the desire to sample others to enrich ones palate and pleasure. He also understood that their companions, with the exception perhaps of Vernon, had issues with the notion of her feeding on them.

"That's perfectly reasonable for a vampiric being, Root. However, it's also polite in vampire society to not feed or drink from someone without their consent."

"I don't think fleders or ekimmaras ask their supper for permission do they?" she said coyly, giving him a flirtatious flutter of her eyelashes.

Regis grinned broadly, loving the little streak of shadow in her sultry voice, and the sexy way she pressed up against him just then.

"No. No, they don't." he replied in an equally seductive voice, encircling her waist. "But you are not a lesser being, my dear. You are no base beast. You are mine, blood of my blood. A line of ancients runs through you; of refined gentlemen and matchless ladies of grace. You are a higher vampire now, Root, daughter of Selithlene, in addition to whatever your mothers' kind is. And we do not drink without permission like drunks. We drink to celebrate and enjoy the company of kin and friends."

Root gazed into his beautiful eyes, absolutely adoring the man who held her body and soul.

"I love you so much." Root said, gently caressing his face.

"Root?" Regis said quietly, kissing her palm.

"Yes, love?"

"I'm asking."

The forest maiden was surprised and unsure what to do, so she just nodded. Regis put his hand to the side of her face and stroked down; down her neck, over her throat and then up and over her shoulder, drawing her to him. He put his nose into her hair and nuzzled her ear, breathing against her.

"Just relax." He whispered, softly licking the pale skin, and she trembled slightly.

A moment of discomfort and Root's world seemed to drop away, her thoughts stilled, and her body was completely supported in the strong arms of the ancient man who for the first time in almost five hundred years, drank the blood of another. The werewolf's wild liquor flowed into him and Emiel Regis savored her like a vintage wine. He tasted his own blood of course, and too what seemed to him a very light, pleasing taste on the tongue; like summer fruits dipped in honey. And he figured this was her own vampiric energy flowing into him through the medium of her liquid vitality. After just a minute, although for her it seemed an eternity, he slowly withdrew his fangs, licked the wound, sealing the marks without a trace, and touched her forehead, waking her from the trance she'd slipped into.

Root opened her eyes and blinked a few times before smiling hugely at him.

"Thank you, my love." He said, kissing the corner of her mouth. "You are exquisite. Truly the most delightful and delicious woman I've ever sipped. And the death of Imlerith is indeed something to celebrate with a drink."


	63. Chapter 63

Chapter 63 (a nice short one after the lengthy chapters before)

* * *

After, Geralt and Vernon returned; the Witcher having given the soldier a tour of the premises, showing him the training yard, as well as retrieving suitable armor for the commander to use if necessary, and the two men entered the large bedroom. Root, dressed in a warm robe and slippers, leapt to her feet and threw herself into Geralt's arms.

"My Gwynbleidd!" she cried, hugging him tightly.

"You're walking very well, Root." Roche said as she embraced him too. "I swear that frostbite cream is a miracle cure."

"No, she did that on her own." Regis said, looking up from a map of the keep he'd found tucked in an old tome. "Well, I'm sure it helped but, mostly what you see is the result of her feeding. She is a wonder indeed."

"Come on," Geralt said, opening the door that led into a short hall with a winding stone staircase up. "Let me show you my room. These two can stay down here and you, well you can sleep wherever you want, Root."

The White Wolf led her up the stairs into a smaller room above. And Root was in awe, surprised at how lavishly decorated it was. Large, plush rugs covered the stone floor, running up to the side of an enormous bed draped in a black velvet comforter with piles of soft white pillows. At its side was an elegant wooden nightstand with a silver jewelry dish, and next to that a wider vanity, complete with mirror. The wind blew hard against the windows, and she turned to see large glass double doors draped in black and white silks, with a stone balcony buried in snow lying beyond them. The Witcher walked around the room and lit the various golden candelabras with a snap of igni, then threw the full sign onto the fresh logs in the fireplace, bringing a rush of warmth and light. Root ran her hand along the vanity, marveling at its high gloss finish, gold edging and the silver handled brush and hand mirror.

"There are some women's clothes in the dresser over there." Geralt said, stripping off his armor with a grateful groan. "They'll have to do until we can figure out how to get you some new ones. Although Yen's gonna kill me when she finds out."

Root paused and looked over, admiring his scarred body before he sheathed it in a white cotton shirt and dark green trousers.

"This…this is Yennefer's room?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

"Well, no. It's my room but most of this stuff is hers. Do I look like a man who uses silver hairbrushes? She's a woman of more refined elegance so she keeps a few things here in case she visits."

"Oh." Root said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable and Geralt noticed.

"Stop it, Root." Regis called from down the stairs. "That's silly."

The woman blushed and Geralt came to her, tilting her head up to look at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"I'm…I'm not a refined lady of elegance." She answered.

"No, you're not." Geralt replied, his face alight with a handsome, stunning smile and pure love in his golden eyes. "Which is one reason why I love you, Root."

"She won't turn you into a rug either, my dear. I promise." Regis called up again.

"Regis!" Root exclaimed with a huff, causing Geralt to step back and give her an amused raised eyebrow.

"Is that it? You…you're afraid of her?" he said as she turned deep red.

"Well, you did say she'd make me into a rug just for looking at you. What will she think when she finds out…oh, dear. If I wear her clothes, what if she thinks…"

But Geralt had enough of silly woman talk and drew her to his mouth, silencing her with his tongue, wrapping his hands around her waist. Root sighed, giving herself completely to him, pressing up against his unarmored, lean body. Any thoughts of an angry Yennefer melted away as his silken tongue slipped around hers.

"No, more of that, understand?" he said after a time, hesitant to leave lips that tasted like sweetest honey. "I love you for you, Root. Stop that nonsense."

"Yes, my hunter. I will." She whispered obediently, laying her cheek on his chest as he stroked her hair.

"Good girl." He purred in his deep voice. "Now, look what I have in this corner; something very special my wild woman. Something you've wanted for a good many weeks. Close your eyes."

Root did so and Geralt took her hands, walking her across the room and behind a standing room divider decorated with the image of a rising golden dragon.

"Open." He said.

And there before her pine green eyes stood the most welcome and blessed object Root had seen in months…an enormous wooden…bathtub.


	64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64

* * *

"Root, you're going to look like an old woman if you stay in that tub any longer." Dandelion said as he went through the dresser, checking out the clothing that Yennefer had left. "Oh, that Yen! She has such good taste. Hope you like velvet, Root. It sure likes you. Remember how absolutely smashing you looked in that green vel…are you even listening to me?"

The woman sat in the wooden tub filled with steaming hot water and mirror like bubbles. Regis had some pine needle infused oil and had added that to her bath water too, causing the room to smell like the dark forest of the Morhen valley. She lifted her feet from the soapy water and rested her ankles on the edge.

"Yes, D. I'm listening." She said in a languidly relaxed voice, reclining against the back of the tub.

The bard shook his head.

"Geralt said he'd bring dinner up shortly. Probably not a good idea for you to cross paths with the others just yet. I would steer clear of Lambert most of all." The bard said, laying out a black velvet dress.

"Which one is that?" she asked, sitting up and washing her arms with the coral sponge.

"The youngest." Dandelion replied, putting away a pair of fishnet tights. "No, too formal. Um, dark hair, bit of a swagger to his step. Basically, the younger guy without the hugely scarred face. The other is Eskel; although he doesn't really say much."

"Why is Lambert more to be avoided?" she asked, pouring clean water over her hair.

"Do you want me to wash that, Roo?" the poet asked, glancing over.

"Sure." She said.

Dandelion rolled up his sleeves and lathered up his hands.

"Lambert has killed scores of monsters. He's almost as legendary as Geralt himself to be honest. And if you weren't with Geralt, I've got a mind to think he'd have put you to the silver sword already."

"Do you…you don't think…"

"Nah, don't worry about that. He knows you're under our witcher's protection and he won't cross him. But no use poking a bear right? Eyes closed for the rinse."

The bard poured clean water from a swan-shaped ewer over her brown hair and fetched a towel as she stood up, the water making her bare skin glisten, the bubbles glittering like wet diamonds.

"Here you go, on the rug." He said, wrapping her in a plush white towel and helping her step out of the high walled tub.

"Thanks, D." she said sweetly, seating herself at the vanity.

"Anytime." He said taking another towel to her damp hair. "Now, where did I spy that comb? Ah, here we go."

"Dinner is served, my dear." Regis said, carrying a large tray into the room, setting it on the small table. "Geralt decided to eat with his brothers in arms. Catch up and all. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course." Root said with a smile. "Oh, that smells wonderful!"

"Indeed. Roast pheasant with stuffing, gravy, boiled potatoes, carrots with brown sugar glazing and sauerkraut. They must have a well stocked root cellar here, and sauerkraut is such a great way to preserve and use up cabbage. Tuck in, my love." He said sitting with her as she came to the table.

"I'll go keep Vern company." Dandelion said jogging down the short stairwell. "See ya, Roo."

"Thanks, D!" she called after him.

"He's such a delightful man." Regis said fondly. "Chilled wine, sweetheart?"

Root nodded and sighed with happiness as she tried the sweet, glazed carrots with the dark meat of the pheasant.

"Sweet spirits of field and forest this is good. But to be fair, we did eat pretty well most nights, what with me and Dandelion doing the cooking." She said, savoring the apple wine.

"And Vernon too. It may be a bit judgmental of me but I certainly didn't expect a veteran soldier to be so handy in the kitchen. Foltest should've decorated him for his knife skills as well as his swordsmanship and battle tactics." Regis said, swirling wine in the high fluted glass. "Oooh this is very fine. This bottle has to be a century aged for sure; almost one fifth as old as I am. Marvelous."

"Well, who would expect a werewolf's daughter to be dining in a witcher stronghold?" Root said sweetly. "And you look good for rolling on five hundred years."

"Very true, my dear. Certainly none of Geralt's brothers that's for sure. Ahh, and thank you. We stop looking like we're aging around what humans would call middle-age. It also means that I can't really live in one place for too long. People start to notice you're…rather well preserved. Thus I had my cottage out near an ancient cemetary when I needed to get out of the city of Dillingen for a while."

"What did you do there?" she asked, tearing a hunk of bread into pieces, and dipping them into the gravy.

"Typical herbalist stuff. Of course you know about that. Gathering plants, making tinctures and infusions, salves for pain and teas for sleep; oils for cooking, blends for smoking, all those kinds of things. And I'd also set up a small still and made moonshine; best in all the land, if I do say so myself."

Root tilted her head.

"Moonshine? Sounds like something werewolves should avoid." She said cutting into a soft skinned potato dripping with butter.

Regis laughed lightly and leaned back in his chair. The woman admired her love, dressed as he was in a clean cotton shirt and simple brown pants, a relaxed look that she found to be handsome.

"No, no. You'd be fine to enjoy some, Root; although moonshine is quite strong, stronger than this wine that's for sure. And my blend had mandrake and love apple in it which, as you know, would have you sleeping in fairly short order." He said, giving her a wink.

The woman finished up her plate and reclined, placing a hand on her full tummy.

"Love apple?" she asked. "Goodness, I'm full."

Regis finished his wine, and set the glass on the finely carved table top.

"Belladonna. You've not worked with the beautiful lady before?" he asked, taking out his pipe.

"I have not. Nor mandrake. Quite a few of father's tales warned of using that; something about going deaf because it screams. Can you imagine?" she said, running her fingers through the still damp short locks.

The healer had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes, not wanting to embaress his lady for her folkish wisdom that was utter rubbish.

"I can. Imagine, that is. Although in real life it's quite safe to handle if you're wearing gloves and have the right tools. No screaming at all. And do I seem deaf to you?" he said kindly.

Root felt another twinge of shame and silliness sweep through her as yet another one of her folk traditions was popped. Like one of the bubbles from the bath.

"I tried to be as gentle as possible with my reply and I still upset you. I apologize, my dear." Emiel said, putting his hand on top of hers.

"No, you're right. How stupid of me to not notice that you'd worked with it before and suffered no ill effects. That's…that's pretty ignorant." She said.

Regis looked into her deep green eyes and continued to be amazed by how humble the woman before him was when it came to being wrong. She could be stubborn, even argumentative, especially with the Witcher. But time and again she'd been challenged on some point of folk tradition and each time graciously responded.

"There are professors at universities who would benefit greatly from your willingness to listen and learn, Root. But enough of that. Are you finished? Then let us together take a walk through the keep. No one will trouble you while you're on my arm and I have a feeling you'll want to see where these men store the alchemy reagents they use."

"Alchemy?" Root asked and then gasped. "You mean for their potions!"

Root stood and went to the bed, discarding the plush robe and held up the slinky black velvet dress that Dandelion had picked out.

"I don't want to wear this." She said, and then picked up a frilly lace garment that had almost nothing to it but a swatch of cloth in front and a black string in the back. "What…are these?"

Regis let his eyes wander down her glorious naked form and back up to her lovely face.

"I'd rather you just go like this. But I don't think Vesemir would approve. Those are undergarments, my dear." He answered.

Root glanced at them, raised her eyebrow and curled her lip.

"What are they for?"

"Show. Mostly. I'm supposing that's all Miss Vengerberg has for garmentry of that sort. You don't like the dress?" he asked.

Root shook her head. "I know. I'll see if I can wear something of Dandelions. Hey, D?"

The nude woman dashed down the stairwell and caught the bard and Vernon Roche off guard as they sat and enjoyed an after-dinner smoke at their table.

"D, can I borrow some of your clothes?" she asked, giving Vernon a cute smile.

"S..sure, Roo. You don't like the dress I picked out?" the poet asked, glancing at the Commander who just leaned back in the chair and admired her.

Regis quietly came down the stairs and leaned in the doorway with a mirthful grin.

"That was a dress? Where's the rest of it?" she asked, and Roche burst out laughing.

"What?! That is a very fine garment indeed. Where's the rest of it she asks. Goodness, Root we need to take you proper clothes shopping." The poet replied, and Root couldn't roll her eyes hard enough.

"His room is across the hall, wife." Vernon said rising, giving her a kiss. "You're so damn beautiful. Now go get dressed. Regis is waiting."

"Yes, sir." She replied, touching her nose to his. "Thanks, Dandelion!"

Root skipped across the room, after Roche playfully swatted her bottom, and went out into the hall, the vampire trailing after her to make she didn't bump into one of the more unfriendly of their hosts.


	65. Chapter 65

Chapter 65 (some mild adult content)

* * *

"Come on, Wolf, hit me already!" Eskel said as the two witchers faced each other, fists raised. "Been hanging around that woman too long? Made you soft?"

Geralt darted one of his fists forward and clocked the man who was his boyhood friend and sparring partner of many years.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" The scar-faced Eskel said with a smirk, feinting and delivering a sharp jab to the kidney.

Vesemir and Lambert enjoyed a round of cold, dark beer from a tapped keg and both winced as Geralt grunted, staggered by the side punch. The White Wolf swept his foot out but Eskel danced away, spun around and slammed his gloved fist into Wolf's other side. But the master sword-dancer anticipated the showy move, grabbed Eskel's arm and twisted it behind his back, jabbing his index and middle finger into a pressure point, dropping the man to his knees.

"Fuck!" he said, tapping the ground with his foot.

Geralt released him and Eskel stood up, rubbing his shoulder. The White Wolf returned the smirk.

"Melitele's tits! Well played, Wolf." He said, downing a mug of ale.

"Gents." Ves replied softly with a look toward the door.

There stood a wide eyed Root, surprised at the little fight she'd just witnessed. Dressed in Dandelion's clothing, she appeared like a traveling minstrel come to play them a song; clad as she was in a long-sleeved, dark violet embroidered jacket and brown doeskin pants. Regis stood with her a moment, gave the men a nod, and then gently nudged her down the hallway. Lambert spit.

"I can't believe you let that thing wander." He said, and Geralt turned toward him. "Yeah, and fuck you, Wolf. Don't you look at me like that. It wasn't that long ago that you'd have joined me in skinning one of those. Is her pussy that great?"

The Witcher knew Lambert spoke the truth, on both accounts; the former though cutting him to the core, awakening the guilty, gnawing thoughts that sometimes chewed their way through his mind.

"That's one hairy pussy I bet!" Eskel said and they roared with laughter.

"Seriously right!? Fucking nasty." Lambert said.

Geralt was not amused and walked out of the room. Vesemir gave his younger charges a look but let the grown men express themselves as they saw fit. He was their teacher, not their father, after all.

* * *

"Here we are." Regis said turning the twin silver handles of a large set of wooden double doors, each carved with the trademark symbol of the school, a snarling wolf head. "I suspect we're some of the few who have ever seen the great laboratory of the witchers, Root. Let us be careful and mindful of that."

Inside, every wall was lined with tall shelves, and upon each of those many tiered shelves were countless sealed glass jars filled with every possible dried flower, root, seed, and bark; and in others, dried skin, scale sheddings, and nail clippings; still in others, submerged in preservation fluid, were eyeballs, tongues, wings, brains, intestines, organs, fingers and toes; and still more marched along the walls, filled with…

"Is that…" Root gasped, looking at Regis.

"Blood? Yes. From hundreds if not thousands of specimens." He replied.

The woman wandered around the room, marveling at the fine instruments at various stations. In particular, the complex alembic that was crowned with curling glass piping and copper tubing that ended in a tall clear beaker. A blue liquid was slowly dripping into it.

"What is this?" she asked, peering into the glass.

"Mutagen." Geralt said, and Root turned toward his voice.

Regis then spied an entire wall filled with books and excused himself to browse the titles, leaving the White Wolf and his werewolf together.

"You're upset about something." She said, knowing that pained look in his eyes. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Just the guys being guys. No big deal. I wanted to come see you. I figured you'd make your way here." He said giving her a reassuring smile.

Root didn't quite buy it, but decided to let it be just then. She turned her attention back to the fluid dripping into the container.

"What does this do? What is it for?" she asked.

"These days we mostly we use them to amplify the effects of our potions, oils and decoctions. But some of them we can ingest directly and get a powerful boost to our bodies, aiding our fighting or healing skills. This one comes from a griffin." He explained. "They're rare, mutagens, and so we try and harvest ingredients from all the monsters we slay, hoping to acquire one."

"That makes sense. A hunter should use everything he or she can from their prey in order to show it respect. I suppose it is similar for witchers? What would you harvest from me?" she asked and both Regis and Geralt stopped and looked at her.

The only sound for a while was the bubbling of the alembics and the dripping of fluids into beakers and vials. Geralt thought about how to answer her. A part of him wanted to say nothing and just change the subject. But another part of him understood that Root knew what his profession was, knew some her kin had fallen to his blades, and loved him without reserve. He took her hand and led her over to one wall and gestured toward the lower shelves, its glass jars each labeled clearly.

2 Werewolf hearts

Continental

Harvested fresh; subjects still living upon extraction

* * *

3 Werewolf hearts

Continental

Dead harvest; subjects died before extraction

* * *

5 Werewolf tongues

Continental

Harvested fresh; subjects still living upon extraction

* * *

10 Werewolf eyes

Continental

Harvested fresh: subjects still living upon extraction

* * *

1 Werewolf brain

Ulfhedinn

Dead harvest; slain in the wild.

* * *

1 Large and 1 small intestine

Ulfhedinn

Harvested fresh; manually uncoiled while subject still lived.

* * *

1 Werewolf liver

Continental

Dead harvest; slain in the the wild.

Root laid her hand on the jar filled with hearts and offered up a prayer to the leshen, that the Horned Lord of the Green would receive their lupine souls and give them peace in the sacred earth. She then raised her eyes to Geralt.

"They were bad werewolves then?" she asked quietly.

"Well, they certainly weren't kindly herbalists living in woodland cottages making pancakes with their father." He replied. "These were men and women who surrendered to the beast, lost their humanity, and were running amok in the world, bringing bloodshed and fear to others. When that happens, people call in we witchers, pay us a hefty fee for the risk, and we take care of it. We make sure to harvest all that is useable from the bodies too. This way their remains can at least be preserved in order to help others, sometimes heal them. Many of our most powerful potions are made from these rare organs."

The woman reflected on his words.

"Even monsters like drowners? Like those that attacked us?"

Geralt nodded. "Certainly. Did you know drowner tongue, buckthorn and balisse fruit combined with dwarven alcohol makes a potion that lets you breathe underwater?"

"Indeed." Regis said, walking over, a large tome held in his hands. "And drowner brain, white myrtle petals, and celandine combined with a basic swallow potion will make an enhanced version, of swallow that is, that accelerates regeneration of vitality."

The White Wolf nodded. "Those are hand written pages of recipes from the foundation of this school, old friend. I'd appreciate your extreme caution with that book."

"I'm slightly wounded that you felt the need to say something." The vampire said giving his friend a smile. "Of course. You know, Geralt, it might be a fine idea to carry some swallow potions with us when next we venture out. Being that it accelerates vitality regeneration, that could come in handy should our Root need an extended feed from you. If I'm not around that is. The swallow would ensure you are not harmed."

"So you really are more like hunters than just monster killers." Root said, wandering along the other shelves. "You incur a great risk to hunt the prey, often a strong predator itself, and are entitled to not only a fair price but the remains of the hunt to use to help others or yourselves. Why then do people call you freaks? Why are people afraid of you, Geralt?"

"A fair question, and well spoken, my dear." Regis said. "Oh my, a katakan heart. It would seem your kin are not the only ones in jars here, Root."

The Witcher walked with the woman as she examined the other shelves, circling the large alchemy room of the ancient stronghold. Centuries upon centuries of ingredients were stored there, harvested from some of the rarest creatures and plants known to scholars.

"I appreciate your understanding of our perspective, Root. Yes. We see ourselves as hunters. It's true; our services have been bought for other reasons as well. I won't lie to you; we're not all nobly-minded. We can be powerful assassins of kings just as well as we can be slayers of beasts and breakers of curses. And there are other schools of witchers with different techniques and values. Why are we freaks? We choose to undergo mutations in order to enhance our bodies, our minds and our skills. Some consider such a transformation to be blasphemous, an offense against the forces that, they say, created us. So we are condemned as demons. Why fear us? For that same reason, we're seen as demons and monsters ourselves. The very race that first made us to fight monsters now lumps us in with those very same monsters."

"Typical human hypocrisy." Regis snorted, rolling his eyes. "It's the same with their sexual fantasies. They loathe the vampire, even as they lie awake and masturbate to the thought of one. Good grief."

Root shyly looked up at Regis and turned pink.

"Yes, I know you have." Emiel said, knowing her thoughts. "But you never loathed me, or any of my kin."

"Geralt?" Root said, turning to the Witcher.

She took his hand, kissed his fingers and laid them on her chest.

"If I die…I…I want you to take my heart. My…remains. I want to help others too." She said quietly.

Regis simply beamed at his mate, so proud of the unselfish woman that shared eternal life with him. He hoped, of course, that she would live a long and healthy, happy life with him. But of course there was always the risk that she could be killed, as he could be. The Witcher ran his fingers over her collarbone and up behind her ear, his fingers slipping through her short hair.

"As you wish, me aen woedbeanna." He replied.

"You would want that?" spoke a voice from behind them.

Regis and Geralt turned to the old witcher Vesemir. Dressed in a dark brown smoking jacket over a black shirt with simple brown trousers, the man certainly didn't look menacing, or powerful for that matter. Yet Root hid behind her husband, remembering well his strength.

"Root, answer the master of this house." Geralt replied, stepping aside so she was no longer hidden.

Vesemir approached and Root began to tremble, fidgeting with her fingers. Her green eyes pleaded with Geralt but he nodded toward his teacher.

"You would help others, even in death?" Ves asked, crossing his arms.

"Root." Geralt said, nudging her forward.

"Y-yes." She stammered. "I would want that."

The old witcher stepped closer and Root went to back away but bumped into Geralt's strong body.

"Even as you've killed others and feasted on them?" he said and Regis' eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.

The woman tilted her head.

"I've killed no one." She replied, a bit of green fire in her eyes. "And I don't…eat people. Well, not…"

"What _do_ you eat then?" Vesemir asked. "Or rather _from_ _whom_ do you eat?"

The forest maiden looked up at Geralt and he again nodded. Root took a hesitant step forward and a deep breath.

"I eat standard food much like everyone else; meats, milks, and plants; the usual fare. But I…I also need to eat…vitality, erm…a beings' energy, if you will."

The vampire quickly glanced at the White Wolf, who nodded reassuringly to his friend.

"Without their knowledge?" Vesemir asked.

She shook her head. "That's hard to explain but, now? No. Never."

"Why not?" he asked, getting very close to her.

"Because drunks and addicts do that; and I am no such lesser being." She replied, holding his gaze.

Emiel Regis swelled with pride but had to mask it, lest his reaction possibly betray his own nature.

"Is that right? A higher vampire in my own keep, eh? Show me." Ves said.

Regis had to hand it to the old man. He was masterful at gleaning information from what was left unsaid or hinted at during conversations. Vesemir had rightly ascertained that Vernon Roche was a professional soldier and not some mere sword slinger, and now he correctly pegged Root as a higher vampire without knowing anything about her shared bloodline. But Root got very defensive and glared at him, her eyes defiant.

"No." she answered firmly.

Vesemir raised an eyebrow and looked up at Geralt.

"No?" he replied, turning his head. "And why not?"

"Because I'm not a show for you to watch." She spat, her tongue sharp like the fang of an ekimmara.

Her reply surprised the old witcher and he was silent, gazing upon the woman with fierce green eyes. Root was clearly afraid of him, and yet Vesemir had to acknowledge her courage in refusing to answer his question.

"You have a very strong sense of whom and what you are, young one. I must admit I'm impressed by your selfless declaration to donate your remains upon death. You won't show me your power while you live, but you'll give us your heart when it stops beating?"

"Or apparently even before, if these labels mean anything." Root snarled, a tiny growl escaping her lips.

"Root." Geralt said, his voice full of warning.

"Ah, excuse me." Regis said, insinuating himself between Vesemir and Root, taking the woman's hand, leading her away. "You'll pardon us I'm sure, Master Vesemir. Good night."

Emiel took her away but Root shot one last venomous look at the old witcher before she disappeared through the doorway. Vesemir turned to Geralt who crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"Feisty isn't she. I can see why you like her." Ves said, pulling a pipe out of the pocket of the smoking jacket. "Reminds me of another one of the White Wolf's women."

"What was that about?" Geralt asked, relaxing now that the tension had dissolved. "She shifts when she gets nervous or scared, Ves. Were you trying to provoke her?"

"I was." He said, lighting the pipe, tossing the match into the fireplace. "And she did well. I'm impressed. Truly. You know as well as I do that most werewolves will use any reason to go berserk. She showed restraint, even when prodded, even though she was frightened and shaking like a leaf. The same goes with her firm refusal to show me her vampiric side. Both show a humility regarding her nature and power that I needed to see for myself."

The White Wolf nodded.

"I understand that. But you could've caused a situation that didn't need to happen, master. Root is gentle and kind. If you'd just give her a chance to show you, I know you'll come to understand how all of us love her so much. Dandelion is like her best friend in the whole world and look how weak he is. If anyone was going to be a target of her feeding it'd be him; the weakest, most vulnerable and exploitable link in the group. And do you know how many times she's fed on him?" Geralt explained. "Zero. Not once, Ves."

"I'm betting ole Dandelion's energy wouldn't be nearly as satisfying as yours though." Vesemir replied, blowing a line of smoke. "A witcher's vitality must hum in her veins like a thunderbolt potion does through ours."

Geralt had to concede that point.

"Still, I'm not being flippant when I say I am impressed by her willingness to have her body used for alchemical research in the event of her death. That is definitely something to consider in her favor so, on the whole, I'm glad to have walked in at that moment." Vesemir said.

"Yeah, fine. But can we not create situations where an overzealous Lambert decides to harvest before she's dead?" Geralt replied.

"Very well, Wolf. I won't poke the beast…eh, her…again. And you're right about Lambert. I'd keep her out of his way for some time, Geralt. I'm not going fault a witcher I've trained for drawing on what he sees as a threat."

"I wish I could make you see, Ves. I really do. But I understand. And I will. Good night, master."

* * *

Root paced around the downstairs bedroom while Roche and Regis both watched her circle around for what seemed like the hundredth time as they played Barrel at the table. Dandelion was asleep and she didn't want to wake him by giving vent to her frustrated thoughts so she just muttered to herself under her breath. Geralt walked into the suite and closed the door, following her with his eyes as she wandered past him, sensing the agitation. Vernon politely remained quiet, as neither she nor Regis had mentioned what had wound the forest maiden up so tightly, but he figured the two had encountered one of the other three witchers dwelling in the castle.

"Hey, Wolf. You fancy a play?" the Viziman asked. "I win this time, Regis."

"Yeah, deal me in. Is Dandelion really passed out?" the Witcher asked, sitting with the other men. "I can hardly believe it."

"I think our bard is very happy to be sleeping in a proper bed after these last weeks." Regis replied, enjoying a pipe. "Comfortable as the carriage may be, it did get a bit cramped at times. Not to mention tents can be dreadful."

"What? Aren't you used to coffins and cramped tombs?" Roche asked with smirk.

Regis' dark eyes glittered in the flickering firelight.

"No. I am not. How would like to be introduced to the inside of one?"

Geralt snorted, nearly choking on his ale as Roche's face went ghost white.

"Gods, you're fucking terrifying when you want to be, do you know that?" he said with all three friends having a hearty, if quiet, laugh.

Root, not wanting to be a bother to their fun, went up the stairwell to find that the candles had all been replaced with fresh, sweet smelling beeswax tapers burning merrily, bringing lovely warm ambiance and light to the otherwise shadowy room. Inhaling, she let her thoughts drift back to her beloved forest, to a time where she and Curamil would harvest the honeycomb from their apiary. She could almost taste the raw honey on her lips, the flavor unique to their region because of the wildflowers that only grew in the heart of the forest. For the self-sufficient werewolves, honey provided sweetener for their tea and oatmeal, a wonderful ingredient for homemade breads, as well as a natural healing agent for the cuts and scrapes that were common when running a homestead. Whatever they didn't use, they made sure to return it to the forest as an offering to the leshen.

Opening her eyes, Root unbuttoned her jacket and tossed it on the cushioned vanity chair, with the pants following a moment later. She then opened up the dresser and poked around at the clothing within, seeing all sorts of finery made from silk, lace and velvet.

"She sures likes black." Root said quietly, wondering what Geralt's Yennefer looked like, and what her personality might be. "This ought to do."

She pulled out the simplest garment she could find, a plain black satin nightshirt with thin straps whose edge barely brushed her bottom. She also spied the pair of undergarments the poet had picked out before still lying on the bed. Root supposed the patch was to cover her femininity, but she didn't care for the idea of a string between her cheeks. Still, she gave them a try and slipped them up, admiring herself in the vanity mirror. Root smiled, even as she had to adjust to the feeling.

"Not too bad." She said, turning to see her behind and shrugged.

After turning down the heavy velvet comforter, she slid into the cool, crisp white sheets and leaned over to blow out the bedside candle. She then lay in bed, gazing out the balcony doors at the beautiful full moon that illuminated the wintry land outside. Thoughts of the moon made her recall the encounter with the old man, who she supposed was the one Geralt called Vesemir, and she rolled her eyes. She knew he was trying to scare her, goad her into a shift, and that frustrated her.

"I do everything I can to not be a bother, and then some old guy deliberately tries to make me shift so he can conveniently say, "See, see I told you so." Well, I'll show you, mister." She muttered, yawning deeply, wishing one of her husbands was by her side.

But of course Root was very happy that they were all safe and out of the bitter cold. And it pleased her that the men of the company could finally let down their guard completely and enjoy camaraderie with others. She loved the wilds, but she also loved and missed her fathers' homestead. And even her own little shanty that she'd lived in just prior to meeting the White Wolf.

And as she reflected on that, she remembered the first time she'd laid eyes on the great hunter. She closed her eyes and could almost see his face as he'd looked down on her then, holding the chain of his pendant, twirling it slowly, his deep voice beckoning her to rest.

"And you didn't know then did you, Gwynbleidd?" she whispered.

The forest maiden smiled and let her hands trail over her breasts, enjoying how the perky nipples felt through the satin. With one hand caressing her soft mound, the other slipped under the edge of the lacey garment. Root imagined the short stubble of his face between her thighs and spread her legs, softly sighing.


	66. Chapter 66

Chapter 66

* * *

"So let me get this straight, Geralt." Regis began, shuffling the Barrel deck. "I'm her primary, but you get your own bedroom to enjoy with our wife. While I have to, what, find a cupboard to enjoy private time with her?"

The men all laughed, passed around a bottle of spirits and shared one of Regis' newest smoking blends made with fresh ingredients from the famous witchers' storeroom.

"Feel free to fuck her right on the floor if you fancy, Regis. She's pretty shameless when it comes to that." Geralt said, downing a shot of whiskey. "Ole Roche here can watch, since he can't bury his cock in her."

Vernon rolled his eyes and blew smoke in the Wolf's direction.

"That would be because I can give her what you never could, you mutated freak of Nature. So I'm going to count that as a plus for me, not a minus. You gonna deal, Regis or what?" he asked, taking a shot. "Don't you growl at me, Wolf. You know I'm just screwing with you."

The Witcher shook his head and picked up the hand of cards. He smiled, seeing that an ulfhedinn werewolf had turned up in the deal, its image baying at the full moon, even like the one that hung heavy and bright just outside the window.

"Well, I shall not be splaying our lady out on the cold, stone floor if I can help it." Regis said, laying down a foot soldier.

"Root's free to wander between any bed she chooses, Regis. You know that. I'm sure Roche and I can busy ourselves elsewhere if she finds her way to yours." Geralt said, placing a siege engine. "Although now you say it, I've never banged a woman in a cupboard before."

And again they all filled the room with barely suppressed laughter, mindful of the bard who snored on.

After a few hours of good-natured entertainment, the Viziman passed out on the card table and Geralt rose, heading for the stairwell.

"Good night, Wolf." Regis said, settling himself into the chair by the fireplace with a stack of books from the alchemy library.

Geralt rubbed the back of his neck and threw a thumb in Dandelion's direction.

"Feel free to wake his ass up and chuck him out. He's got his own room."

"No, no, it's quite alright."

"Did…did you want to sleep with Root, Regis?" the White Wolf asked, pausing at the base of the stairs.

Root's primary mate gave his good friend a warm, genuine smile and a gracious nod.

"You know I was only jesting earlier. I was not, and am not, the least bit serious about where and when I can sleep with her. But thank you, my good man. Go. She and I have eternity after all. You do not." He replied.

"I'm glad she has you, Regis." Geralt said in a moment of sentiment. "I can't protect her forever. You can. Good night, old friend."

Geralt climbed the stairs and saw his lady tucked into the large master bed, lying on her side, hugging one of the pillows. Her short brown hair had a silvery, white sheen to it as the moonlight bathed her sleeping body, and the Witcher was again deeply grateful to Emiel Regis. He knew that if Root was still under the sway of the moon, as most werewolves were, that such would make her stay at the keep even more difficult than it already was. Although he was reminded just then that it was because of the Wild Hunt that she found herself in such a challenging situation. Still, he wondered if perhaps it was a positive event that would help his brothers in arms come to understand that, in Geralt's view, witchers needed to change up how they did things. The White Wolf knew, via his relationship with both a vampire and a werewolf, that the world they lived in was no longer so easy to navigate. It was not just monsters needed to be killed and people needed to be protected. Sometimes the very opposite was true. And Geralt knew there were others out in the world, others labeled monsters and blood sucking fiends, who were good natured, kind and as harmless as anyone else left to live their own life in peace. Still, he knew it'd be a right proper struggle to explain these things to his brother witchers, most of whom were like Lambert; young, brash, eager to shed blood and make a name for themselves.

With his thoughts so occupied, Geralt wandered around the room and extinguished the candles, and put another heavy log onto the fireplace to keep the room toasty warm until morning. Root rolled onto her back, her arm resting upon the black velvet and snorted quietly, making the hunter smile. He stripped off his clothes, tossed them onto hers, and carefully slipped into bed, nudging her over. She turned to him, nestling into his embrace as was her habit, and Geralt felt her fingers fidget slightly.

"I'm sorry I woke you." He whispered and kissed her ear. "Go back to sleep."

"Mmmm hi Geralt." She said sweetly, opening her tired eyes to see him. "Did you and the boys have a nice night?"

He smiled. "We did. I know you were upset earlier. I don't blame you at all. Vesemir was…"

"I know, my love." She said, putting a finger to his lips. "He was testing me. I suppose he has to, right? I was upset but its fine now. I don't know if I'll pass his tests or not, but I'm going to try. For all of us."

"If only I could make them see you as the beautiful, gracious woman I know you to be, Root." He said, tracing her jawline. "However, since you're awake, I do have a bit of bad news to pass along."

She patiently waited for him to continue, content to gaze on his handsome face for as long as possible.

"As of right now, Master Vesemir has forbidden me to teach you anymore of the Wolf School techniques. I'm sorry, Root. But I dare not disobey him while in this house. He's already tolerating a werewolf in his midst and I don't think he will if I defy him on that." He explained.

Root's face fell and she looked deeply grieved. Geralt could see her green eyes shimmer with water. She sniffed.

"Just because of how I was born?" she asked, her voice breaking.

Geralt wiped away a tear that had started to fall and took her hand.

"Sadly, yes. He's more old school than I am. But look at me, Root. Look how you've changed my world. I know that with time he'll come to understand too. He just needs some time. Remember my little fit? When I said you could help by acting more like a monster?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"And what happened? You just kept on being yourself and I fell in love with…"

"With a monster." Root answered.

"No. No, Root. I fell in love with one of the most wonderful women in the world who happens to be the daughter of a werewolf and a vampire. That's what you've helped me see. That what we think of as monsters, what we define as a monster, has to change. But change is hard in this world, Root. And just like with old Vesemir, we can't force it on others, let alone the world. If we do, we weaken our hand. No, we have to show them, my lovely, lovely wife. But we have to do it smart and safe. Understand?"

She smiled at him so brightly that Geralt thought the stars themselves paled in comparison. He kissed her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and then her soft lips.

"I do." She said, wanting to linger on his mouth. "Mmm. Someone has had a shave. I like."

"I might have our barber-surgeon take the straight razor to this mop on my head." He said. "Not nearly enough professional barbers here in the northern kingdoms; much more popular in the south. Well, mandatory in some cases."

"Geralt?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me about the Imperator." Root asked. "About Nilfgaard and the south."

The Witcher was surprised by the question and ran his fingers through her hair. But he'd told himself that he'd never refuse to answer her questions ever again.

"Truthfully, the southern empire is, in many ways, a more stable society and economy. They can boast of many successful businessess, a powerful well-trained army, professional mages circles, an organized religion under which all people can unite toward a common goal and more. Whereas here in the north we have quibbling kingdoms, fighting fiefdoms, and upstart kings and princelings waging their private little wars with each other. Not to mention the scores of religions that people have; folk magic, folk tradition, the Eternal Fire cult, Melitele the Mother and other types of…well, never mind…"

"Nonsense." She said sweetly. "You were going to say nonsense. Its fine, my love; I understand your views are different."

Geralt loved that about his wife. Root didn't try to change him, didn't want him to mingle where he obviously would rather not be, and didn't chastise him for his opinions. And while he adored and loved Yennefer as his very heart and soul, even binding their fates together with a wish, she definitely took issue with his lack of political know-how and the more heavy-handed approach to dealing with the world. The Witcher preferred up front and honest communication, as opposed to Yennefer who could dance the waltz of word-play and veiled threats long into the evening. And while Yen had often showed him the value of such politicking, he still thought a more open and clear approach was far better.

"So…Deithwan Addan ya Carn aep Morvudd, the White Flame Dancing on the Grave of his Foes, Imperator Emhyr var Emreis, Emperor of Nilfgaard. He's a master politician, extremely intelligent, sometimes brutal, exacting in his orders and also very generous with those who serve him well. There's a reason wealth flowed through the little hamlet you saw them pass through, Root. The soldiers are paid a fair wage for the risks they take for the empire. Good incentives for loyal service. And full bellies, made so by imperial coin, make happy citizens willing to work the fields when they are conquered. As opposed to here in the north where service is very often expected, seen by the rulers as their divine right. King Foltest was the rare exception to the rule; treating the men and women in his service more like kin than servants. He knew their names, their stations, and could even recall individual battles some had been in. Then you have kings like Radovid; religious nutters on a holy crusade to rid the world of mages and non-humans. Nilfgaard may have its problems, and its emperor is indeed a conqueror make no mistake. But if I'm honest, Root, Nilfgaardian policies and economy might do the north some real good. In particular, they don't have problems with non-humans. Now, I'm not saying for one moment that werewolves would be welcome at their tables but, stranger things have happened."

Root was quiet for a while, resting in the Witcher's arms, gently nuzzling his chest.

"I bet Vernon would not like to hear you speak so well of Nilfgaard." She said. "And who could blame him? My poor Commander. Do you think he'll ever let go of his desire for revenge?"

"I think he has; at least for now." Geralt said, beginning to slow down his breathing and heart rate. "Roche loves you too, Root. Where you rank in comparison to his beloved Temeria, who can say? But I think being with us is far better than him being on the run, living in some gorge or a cave, waiting for random patrols to wander by and ambush. If anything, his chances of staying alive long enough to strike back at the Imperator are far better if he sticks with our little group of outcasts. In that way he fits right in. And speaking of Vernon Roche, make sure you don't use his name when around Ves and the others. Don't mention Temeria or his connection to it either. It's far safer for others that they know as little as possible about him. You never know where people will go and tongues can be loosened in a variety of ways."

"You want Vernon to get revenge on the empire? Even though you think well of certain parts of it?" Root asked, yawning sleepily.

"I want Vernon to do what he thinks is right and best for him. Whether I agree with it or not, approve or not, means nothing." The Witcher said. "And too, my sleepy werewolf, remember this, I am not the only swordsman you know. I cannot train you. But you can certainly take the skills I've already given you and expand on them under his guidance."

He could tell Root was very happy and equally very, very sleepy in that moment. Geralt stroked his finger over the bridge of her nose and down over her lips.

"If there are no more questions, I think its time for sleep." He said softly, kissing her sweet mouth.

"Thank you, Geralt. For everything." She said, closing her eyes. "I love you."

"You're welcome, Root Selithlene Godefroy-Wolf-Roche. I love you, me aen woedbeanna. Rest now."


	67. Chapter 67

Chapter 67

* * *

Root slept for a few more hours, held in the protective embrace of the White Wolf. Yet as dawn began to tinge the highest ridgeline of the mighty mountains, she quietly slipped out of bed, letting her hunter get some more sleep. She padded across the room and tucked her feet into the plush velvet slippers by the vanity and pulled on a light black silk robe, tying it closed over the matching nightshirt. She then tiptoed down the stairs and peered into the lower bedroom. Vernon and Dandelion were asleep in two of the beds, and Regis sat with closed eyes in the high backed chair near the fireplace, which had burned out in the night. It was thus chilly in their room, but not unbearable. Quiet as can be, Root went to the side of the Commander and was going to pull the blankets up when she felt a soft hand on her shoulder.

"No, don't touch him, Root." Regis said quietly, drawing her away. "He's a soldier, remember? You didn't fall asleep with him, so he wouldn't know it's you touching him. He may respond badly."

She nodded, trusting his words and joined him by the fireplace, to which he added a fresh log and kindling.

"That igni sign sure is handy at times. The coals should still be hot enough to get this going though. And good morning." The vampire said, hugging her. "My you look amazing in that. Very pleasing to the eye."

Root blushed and kissed his handsome mouth.

"Hungry this morning?" he asked, lacing his fingers with hers, and she nodded.

Root siphoned Regis' powerful energy into her body, loving how it felt flowing through her, rejuvenating her own vitality so quickly.

"I think I've decided on a name for your kind of vampire, Root." Regis said, watching as her skin began to shine.

"You're going to name me?" she asked with a smile.

"Well, someone has to document what you are so that future generations will know. And I've been keeping notes about all we've learned together over these many weeks. I think I shall record the name of your species as Golden Glow or Aurum Lumen in the scholarly tongue. Simple, yes. But the radiance that you exude when you feed marks you as completely unique among all the known species of vampire in this world. All vampires that we know of have one thing in common; they consume something from those they feed on. It is the rare few among vampire kind that choose to forego engaging in what is for them a natural act."

"Like yourself." She said, tapering off the draw.

"Indeed. Although if you ask me, my kind really shouldn't be classified as vampires at all. We don't need to drink to survive; where as the very textbook definition of a vampire says that they do. But never mind that. I'm rather persnickety about how humanity views I and my myth. Full already? You're getting very good at this, my dear."

"I like the sound of that." She said sweetly. "I look forward to helping you write this book too. So, can I ask your help with something this morning?"

"Anything. Any morning."

"Will you come with me to the kitchen? I want to make some breakfast before everyone wakes up and deliver it to their doors. Which you'll need to help me find." She explained as Dandelion woke up right then and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Psst, hey, D. You want to help me cook breakfast?"

"You know very well what they say about the way to a man's heart don't you?" Regis replied and kissed her. "Yes, I'll help. And make sure you don't meet any trouble. Come on, master Dandelion. We've work to do."

The bard stumbled over to the couple and yawned, sliding a palm over his face.

"Say the word, Roo. I'm your man. Let's go."

Soon the lower levels of the keep were filled with the delicious aroma of pancakes, maple syrup, thick cut smoked bacon and pork sausage sizzling in the cast iron skillets alongside dozens of yellow and white eggs and creamy butter. Opening the oven, Root grabbed another tray full of peach scones and tucked one of the fresh baked goods onto each of the mens' heaping plates full of food. Dandelion poured the coffee and laid each of the meals on its own platter.

"Don't forget forks, D." she whispered. "There, that's perfect. Regis, will you and Dandelion take these to…erm…"

"Vesemir, Eskel and Lambert." The bard said. "Yep, we got this."

"I'll lay out enough for everyone else in the kitchen here so they can eat when they're ready. Then we'll bring our food to Geralt and Vernon." She said, tossing a towel over her shoulder as they left.

Root filled the counters and dining table with every manner of wonderful food, each tray bursting with enough to feed a mini army. Wiping her arm across her brow, she set out a pile of plates and silverware, and then got food ready for her husbands and Dandelion.

"There." She said with a sigh when they returned. "OK let's bring this up. I'm hungry too."

* * *

The old witcher awoke to the smell of fresh food and coffee drifting into his chambers and wondered what on earth had gotten into his young charges. None of the men of the keep ever brought the old man his morning brew.

"A werewolf shows up at my doorstep, and now I've got one of two, no three now, men fetching me coffee and biscuits." He grumbled, shuffling his feet into some slippers and tugging on the smoking jacket. "Alright! Which of you was it? Think I'm too old to get my own breakfast now do you?"

Ves opened his chamber door and saw the platter of food sitting on the ground. He then looked across the way and saw two more platters, one in front of Eskel's door and one by Lambert's. The two younger men, having heard Vesemir's raised voice, opened their doors, scratching their heads and nearly stumbling over the hot meal in front of them. They all exchanged confused looks, but none of them said no to pancakes the size of a buckler shield dripping with butter and hot syrup, upon which was stacked a heap of cooked meats, eggs and a peach scone, still warm from the oven.

When the three witchers had finished eating, they dressed and came down to the main hall and kitchen area. Errol Dorren, Valonna and the elven kids were seated around the table, each happily dining upon the luxurious spread that filled it. Then the soldiers and sentries filed in, all drawn to the pleasing and irresistible aroma of a homecooked meal. Vesemir looked around the room and saw happy, smiling faces and joyful children; mirthful and honest banter among the soldiers and light-hearted laughter from all. But he did notice that Geralt, Emiel Regis, Root and the mysterious other man of their company were not among that number.

"Good vorning, Master Fesemir." Errol said with a nod. "Fis is quite the spread."

"Oh, uh…"

"Master Vesemir, are there really dragons? Really real ones?" asked a little elven boy, shoveling in a piece of pork sausage.

"Griffins too?" said another.

"What 'bout faeries? Really ones?" Cera asked.

"Whoa, whoa hold on, little ones." The old witcher said with a grandfatherly smile and a chuckle. "Tell you what. You all finish your breakfast, help with clean up, and I promise you a round of stories about all the fantastic creatures. Sound good?"

They all cheered and Valonna smiled kindly at the old witcher.

"You've been so gracious to us, sir. I can see now why Gwynbleidd helped us. Clearly he had a good teacher, in addition to his own good sense of course. Thank you."

"You're welcome to stay as long as you need, lady of the aen seidhe." He said, watching as Eskel and Lambert helped the kids clear the table.

There was merriment in the air that was tangible. Something he'd not felt around the crumbling walls of the keep for some time.

Up one level, Vernon and Geralt were both awake and everyone was finishing their breakfast in the larger lower bedroom when Vesemir knocked on the door. Root gasped and bolted up the stairwell before any of her hubands could say a word.

"Come in, Master. Good morning." Geralt said as Ves walked into the room. "Coffee?"

"I…no, thank you. I've had some. I see you all have quite the morning meal as well." He said, noticing the absense of the werewolf. "I didn't realize we had quality chefs staying in the keep. The kids couldn't have been more pleased. I don't think I've seen smiles like that in years. Cheered my heart it did. Who can I thank for such bounty?"

The four men remained silent.

"Ah, I see. She's…not going to show herself is she?" Vesemir asked, already guessing the answer.

"No. She's not. Not today anyway." Regis said kindly. "But to be fair, sir, Dandelion here helped and deserves some credit too."

"Is that so?" Vesemir replied. "The most famous mincer of words is also a mincer of meat and potatoes, eh? Who knew? Well, thank you, Dandelion. It would seem more than just your songs can brighten the halls of an old keep. Do tell…erm, give her my…"

"We will." Geralt said with a polite nod. "I'll be down for morning exercises shortly."

"Yes, well…very good…" Ves grumbled and shuffled out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Vernon wiped his mouth and got up from the table, jogging up the stairs, while the others finished up. He glanced around the room, checking behind the room divider, but saw no trace of his wife.

"Root?" he called, but then heard a quiet wheeze from the bed.

When he sat on the edge and drew back the comforter that had hid her, he smiled and shook his head.

"Worst hiding spot ever." He muttered, rolling his eyes, and covered the sleeping woman back up.


	68. Chapter 68

Chapter 68 (a long, long one, my dear readers. grab a cuppa)

* * *

A month passed and things seemed to settle into a comfortable routine for the White Wolf and his company. The elven children were delighted to attend daily classes with Vesemir, who had fallen into the role of educator without missing a beat. On top of this, the old witcher also required that Geralt, Eskel and Lambert maintain their prowess by daily sparring with each other. Dandelion was delighted to have access to the grand library with its entire section of books on the great ballads and musical histories of the various races and nations, ancient and contemporary. Errol spent his time practicing archery and passing on his skills to the interested Lambert, who'd inquired after the masterwork Brokilon bows, while Valonna busied herself with much of the daily grind of upkeep, laundry, meals, cleaning up and such. Vernon Roche seemed to drift through Kaer Morhen like a phantom, rarely seen and rarely heard. Everyone knew not to use his name nor mention his homeland so Root had started calling him Blue. And all thought it suited the azure eyed warrior well. As for Root, every morning she, Dandelion and Emiel Regis would prepare a large breakfast and then the forest maiden wouldn't be seen by anyone else but her close friends and husbands. Regis spent the vast majority of his days in the great alchemy lab, with Vesemir granting him use of an alembic that the vampire modified into a still and began brewing a batch of his mandrake and love apple moonshine. On the whole, everyone was happily and peacefully whiling away the remainder of winter in the great keep of the Wolf School.

Yet on one particular morning, after finishing up breakfast, Root found herself in Geralt's room, pacing. She was frustrated and felt cooped up. The wild woman was too afraid to encounter one of the other witchers of the keep, not wanting to create a situation, so she confined herself to the bedrooms she shared with her mates. At first it had been fine, being new and exciting. But now she wanted to get outside and run. Yet the weather continued to be severe, as Vesemir informed them that they were now well and truly sealed into Kaer Morhen until the spring, the snows having been blown into high drifts, effectively barring the doors.

With a huff she kicked the stone wall just as Vernon walked into the room. He was dressed in black leather pants and a light cotton shirt, the strings open at the throat, patting his freshly shaved face with a towel.

"You alright?" he asked.

Root sighed. "Hey, Blue. Just feeling kinda trapped is all."

Roche patted the bedside as he sat down and she joined him.

"I think it's safe for you to wander, Root. The keep is large enough that you can avoid seeing people if you like. I do it. No way am I keeping myself boxed up in these rooms."

"I just worry that I'll shift because I'm afraid." She said, fiddling with her fingers. "And then they'll say, "See, see told you so." And then they'll try and hurt me, and then they'll throw you all out and then…and then…"

"Whoa, whoa, Root, easy." Roche said. "Hey, you're overthinking this. Geralt won't let them hurt you and they're not going to throw anyone out. Have you seen this Vesemir and the kids together?"

"No." she said, looking over.

"Might as well have adopted them." He said, his blue eyes filled with that rarely seen mirth. "So no way is he tossing the elves out. And they're like family so there's no way we're leaving without them right?"

Root liked the way Vernon spoke of them all, himself included, as a family unit. It made her heart swell with happiness and her eyes shimmered.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he said, gently touching her face.

"I love you, Blue." She said and hugged him. "I'm so glad you're with us."

"Me too my forest queen." He said quietly. "I'll always be with you. All of you. It was my true and only kings' last order. And I will die fulfilling that final command. I'm with you till death, Root."

Root looked up into his pale blue eyes and smiled.

"But, Ver…" she began, but he briefly put a finger to her lips. "I won't die."

"I know. Which means you'll be beautiful and stunning until the day I do. Will you still love a crusty old man?" he asked with a handsome grin.

"You'll never be crusty." She said, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Well, we'll see." He replied. "However, both of us will be very rusty if we don't get to practicing. So, get dressed in some warm clothes and let's you and me head out to the training yard."

She hesitated and softly bit her lip.

"Don't make me say it." Roche said, turning his compelling eyes on her. "Who am I kidding; of course you want me to say it. Get dressed. Now. And get your little wolf ass downstairs."

Root giggled, kissed his cheek went through the wardrobe, looking for warmer clothing. Roche swatted her ass and went down to grab his blade and cloak.

* * *

Step, pirouette, step and turn…clang!

Root faced off with the Temerian who crossed blades with her. The snow swirled about them and the frosty wind reddened their cheeks. They stood in the training yard amidst targets for archery practice and stuffed straw dummies, with the high walls of the keep rising overhead to crenallations that once held a much larger force to defend it. But now much of the stone was crumbling, the wood rotting, and yet still the ancient fortress seemed to defy time itself, standing as a symbol of the enduring nature of the witchers and their ways.

Geralt watched the two from a high walkway, clad in his heavy black fur cloak, his golden eyes proud as Root landed a solid hit on the soldier with a stunning move.

"Good, Root!" Roche commended her. "Come on now. You're faster than even that."

Clang, clang, turn and clash! Step back and she circled around him, the commander watching carefully. Root then looked up and saw the White Wolf high above, and Geralt sighed heavily when she squealed. Roche had slapped her cold hand with the flat of his blade, stinging the skin, disarming her. He then brought the point right to her throat in a flash, holding her green eyes with his powerful gaze.

"Don't get distracted." He said firmly, lowering the weapon. "You'd be dead if that were a real fight. All that has to exist is your enemy when in combat. Then the next enemy. Then the next. Your brothers and sisters in arms are counting on you to maintain your focus. When you lose your focus, that's when people die. Again."

Root picked up her sword and set her feet, raising the blade to meet his. They circled around each other, but the soldier could tell her confidence had been shaken and she was hesitant.

"Come on then!" he roared and lunged at her. "Defend yourself!"

Root deflected his blow and pushed back hard, just missing a hit on the shoulder. The steel blades ground against each other, singing as the sound of metal on metal filled the courtyard. The wind howled and the snow brushed against her cold cheeks. Root blinked them away and swung wildly, a foolish move that Vernon recognized was done out of frustration. He swept his foot out and landed the woman on her back and kicked the sword away, holding her at sword point. The woman's green eyes were fierce and she extended her hand toward him, fingers splayed, and Vernon hesitated, feeling a strange sensation in his throat. He then realized that he couldn't breathe.

"Root, no!" she heard Regis bark at her as he ran into the courtyard.

The forest maiden let her hand drop.

"I…what…"

"Breathe. Come on now, take a breath." Regis said as the soldier gasped, finally inhaling deeply.

The young Lambert walked in then, seeing Vernon struggling, with Root backing away.

"What did you do to him?" snarled the young witcher.

"I don't…I…" she stammered, feeling the change coming on. "No…"

"Stop!" Roche finally called out. "Leave her be! Leave…her be. Root, come here. Regis, quit fussing over me dammit."

But the vampire stayed close and Lambert glared as Root went to the veterans' side. He looked deep into her eyes and held her face.

"Calm down." He said softly. "I'm fine. Don't shift. Easy."

Roche held her close as the snow swirled about them. The onlookers were silent.

"She has every right to use her natural abilities in a fight." Vernon said so all could hear. "Root did nothing wrong. She's still learning. We were all young and inexperienced once."

"She doesn't know how to control it well enough for combat." Regis said, giving a Root a reproachful look that made her tear up.

"Nor will she ever if not given the chance." Roche replied, challenging the vampire with his gaze.

Emiel Regis regarded the man in silence and then lowered his head respectfully.

"I am justly corrected. I'm sorry, Root." He said softening his face. "We'll work on it more."

"You people are sick fucks, do you know that?" Lambert said with a sneer.

Root turned and unleashed a nasty growl, her forest green eyes lit with anger. The young witcher turned to her.

"Oh, does that hurt your feelings little wolf bitch?" he sniped. "Want to make me pay for it?"

She felt her anger grow; her vision turned red and Roche could feel her body beginning to shake.

"No, Root. Calm down." Vernon said, holding her.

Geralt, meanwhile, had made his way down, easily navigating the tiered walls, every step confident, as he'd run that gauntlet every day since boyhood. He leapt and landed in a crouch, the black wolf skin cloak hanging on his shoulders, his white hair hooded as he turned his golden gaze on her. And he too growled; fiercely, deeply; the low rumble of an alpha toward a beta. And the sound reverberated in the werewolf's chest. She lowered her gaze, submitting to his authority. He then rose and looked to his brother witcher.

"If she growls at me ever again, Wolf, she's dead. You hear me? Dead." Lambert said, walking right up to Geralt's face before roughly shoving past him and slamming the door to the keep.

"Wolf, it's not her fault." Vernon said. "It's not…"

Root then burst into tears and ran into the keep, fleeing through the kitchen and down whatever hallway was open. Errol and Valonna were shocked as she ran by, exchanging confused looks with each other. Down and down she went, racing around a long, spiral staircase, not knowing or caring where she ended up, so long as she could hide. She opened a door, slammed it shut behind her and kept running.

"It's not her fault." Roche repeated. "Look I'm the one she nearly choked out and I'm fine. I trust her. She needs confidence in her abilities, and help to wield them with skill. And maybe swords aren't her thing. It might be worthwhile to train her to use another weapon, including her natural ones."

"Vernon, we know it's not her fault." Regis said quietly. "But like it or not, her dual nature needs a firm hand at times. You know very well what happens if the rage takes hold and we can't have that here."

"But that's not her fault either!" he replied, exasperated. "That other witcher is deliberately trying to provoke her."

Regis nodded, conceding that point and looked to the Witcher, who was pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"We all knew it would be a challenge for Root to be in this place." Geralt began. "Lambert won't kill her. He says that because he's young and a prick at times. And you're right; she does need more training when it comes to her abilities. But we're not a replacement for her mother, Roche. None of us know what her powers are, not fully. We can't really help when she's just exploring them herself. And I don't know about you, but I'd rather not be the one who she loses control on and hurts, let alone one of the elves or, gods forbid, one of the children. Broken ribs are one thing. But I've felt her drain vitality from me and I could withstand it because of my mutation. Do you really know for sure if she would've stopped had Regis not said something?"

"I trust her, Wolf." Roche said with a firm nod. "It was unpleasant, yes, I grant you that. But no more so than the aches and pains that come from a hard sparring match. She fights differently. We should be helping her hone that."

"You don't know what could happen!" Geralt said, exploding on the soldier. "She could've killed you and then lost herself to sadness and anger and hurt anyone who tried to intervene."

"Why are you still treating her like a monster, Geralt?!" Roche roared back at the White Wolf, which caused him to flinch. "She's your wife! Gods, why do I have to be the one to point that out to you? I get it; you're trying to protect all of us because that's what you do. That's who you are. But you can't deny her the free expression of her very nature in order to do that."

"That is somewhat unfair." Regis intervened quietly. "Root knew she'd have to restrain herself from some things before we got here. Remember that night around the fire? We all talked about it, we all agreed. Geralt warned her and she wanted to come. She's never been forced. But I concede your point. The restraint is a bit much for her to take. I think it would be wise to find a reasonable compromise, Geralt."

Roche threw his hands up and walked inside the keep, leaving Regis and Geralt in the courtyard.

"Find her." Geralt mumbled and Regis nodded.

* * *

Root had finally stopped running and sat in the corner of a large storage room deep in the lower levels of the keep. Around her were various crates and boxes, racks full of weapons, and large ornamental pictures that were covered in canvas and cobwebs. She'd cried herself dry and now just sat, hugging her knees in the darkness, hearing nothing, but replaying the scene in her mind. The forest maiden and daughter of two supernatural beings felt she was lost. On the one hand the beast wanted to run free, and on the other the vampire was hungry. And somewhere in the middle was her humanity and Root felt that such was hard to hold onto at times. But she didn't want to be one of those that lost control. And she hadn't with Vernon. She knew she hadn't. Root knew she was learning to control the energy siphoning very well. But because she'd never tried it in any of their sparring sessions, she knew her beloved Regis had rightly intervened.

And the memory of her Geralt's fierce growl of correction and warning pained her heart. Root feared that he wouldn't forgive her and that made her eyes well up with tears again. The door to the room opened then, and orange torchlight illuminated the old stone walls. Root looked up, ran a dirty hand across her nose and sniffed. Emiel Regis saw her sitting in the corner, afraid and confused. And he felt bad about his over reaction to her use of power, again. Placing the torch into a wall sconce, he came and crouched down before her, but she was afraid to meet his gaze and stared at the floor.

"Regis?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, my dear?" he responded in his softest, most calming voice.

"I…I didn't lose control. I didn't. But…I should've told someone." She said, wiping her nose with the handkerchief that Regis handed to her.

"Yes, you should've. But Vernon made a good point. If you're not given the chance to use your powers in a real life-like context, you'll never flex them and they won't grow. But I am relieved to know that you were in full control. And if I may be quite honest with you, we, all of us, are a bit nervous when it comes to your abilities."

Root looked up with surprise.

"But I'm nothing compared to you all. You're all warriors or witchers or…"

"A barber-surgeon who rarely bears a weapon, but rather a charming personality." He began with a comforting smile. "I'm no warrior, Root. It is my natural abilities too that make me vastly more powerful than even the greatest warrior this age has to offer. And so too you."

The woman wasn't buying that so Regis sat down beside her and began packing a pipe.

"You are the daughter of a man who served the Wild Hunt. Eredin isn't picky about his slaves. But when he discovered that Curamil and your mother were with child, he was most eager to trade the both of them…for you. You remember your dream, yes? Of course you do. You inherited the changing ability of your father and your mothers' vampiric traits. You are what scholars would call a super predator, Root. Had the King of the Hunt captured you, you can bet that he'd be using your powers to drain the strength from his targets and more easily ensnare them. When Eredin wants something that badly, that means it's something powerful. Happily, your father was a very clever man and kept you moving until he was too sick to do so anymore. You grew up isolated and, yes, that has led to some awkwardness in your socialization with others but, they don't know what could've happened had you _not_ been kept in isolation. I feel I do know, Root. But your ignorance about your traits comes with a cost. People don't understand, and you're still learning too. Goodness, I've talked a while. All of this is to say, you have power, Root Selithlene; enough to make even a higher vampire take note."

Root sat in silence for a long time, reflecting on the ancient mans' words while he smoked, blowing rings into the shadowy room.

"Are you saying you're afraid of me?" Root asked.

"I've only been afraid of you once. The day you found out we'd kept the knowledge of the Eternal Fire attack from you. But I wasn't afraid for my physical person you understand. I was afraid you wouldn't forgive me." He explained. "But happily you have a generous and kind heart."

"Do you think it would've been better if I'd never known about this?" she asked.

Regis reflected for a moment, then shook his head.

"I don't believe so. Your abilities were manifesting themselves, just unconsciously so. This way you know and can learn to control them rather than them controlling you." He replied. "Now come. It's dirty and chilly down here and we should get back."

"I…I'm afraid, Regis." She said. "I'm afraid of Lambert."

"Are you? You could've fooled me." He said with a wink. "You were quite ready to swat him something fierce earlier."

"I don't like how he talks about all of you either." She answered.

"Lambert is young, full of piss and machismo. But he won't touch you, Root. He and Geralt are…what's wrong now?" he said as the tears again rolled down her cheeks.

"My White Wolf! He's…he's so angry with me!" she bawled, burying her face in her knees.

Regis shook his head, took a deep breath and tried not to roll his eyes.

"You're such a woman do you know that?" he muttered gently. "Up you get. Come on, Root. I know what you need. That's enough. Look at me. Stop. Geralt loves you, nah…that's enough. Now come on."

Root wiped her eyes and let Regis walk her back up the long spiral staircase that finally came out into the kitchen. Errol and Val were sitting at the table enjoying a pot of tea and some leftover scones and both looked over, concerned.

"Foot…erm, Root, are you alright?" the Speaker asked.

"Had better days, Errol." She said with a sniff. "I'll be fine. Thanks."

Regis and Root walked into the master bedroom suite and Dandelion raced across the room to embrace her.

"Where have you been? I was worried sick. No one would tell me what happened. Geralt left and no one can find Ver…Blue." He said.

Upon hearing that, it seemed to Root that someone had punched her in the chest.

"Left? They…they left?" she said and absolutely lost it, burying herself into Regis' chest, wailing.

"What do you mean he left, Dandelion?" Regis asked, holding her. "Good grief, Root."

"Just that. He said he needed to leave for a bit. And well Blue hasn't been seen since those two left to spar. What is she so upset about? Root, talk to me. What's going on?" he asked, disturbed by her emotional outburst.

"There was a bit of a tense confrontation in the courtyard earlier; a misunderstanding and over reaction on behalf of Geralt and myself. Lambert was involved and said something nasty which…yeah it was almost a disaster. Root, that's enough now. Hush."

"Please don't leave me, Regis!" she wailed, clutching him tightly. "I'll be better! I promise. I'm sorry!"

"She's hysterical." Dandelion said, concerned for her.

"I know. But I don't want to…you know. Sometimes this is just what women do." He replied. "Come on. Upstairs. No, I'm not leaving you."

The door opened and Vernon Roche came in and heard the bawling woman a floor above. He looked at the bard and tossed a thumb toward the stairwell.

"She didn't think you were coming back." The poet replied, adding another log to the fire. "Where the heck have you been?"

"Just sorting out my thoughts is all. Goodness she sure does have a piercing cry. Why would she think that?" Roche asked, throwing his cloak over a chair.

"Geralt said he was leaving for a bit and no one had seen you for hours. So…"

"So you gave her the impression we'd left her." Geralt mumbled as he too came in the room. "Nice going, Dandelion."

"Well, you two better sort it out with her. She's really upset." The poet replied. "I'll excuse myself and my mouth to the kitchen."

"Yeah, we can hear that" the Witcher said, slipping off his gloves and jogging up the stairs.

The vampire had been able to do little else but get Root up the steps, but she would not be consoled and she would not leave his embrace.

"Root, really. Oh, good gods above, Geralt, where have you been?" Regis asked.

Seeing the Witcher brought another round of shrieking cries and wracking sobs as she flung herself into Geralt's arms.

"Root, what is…calm down…" he said, looking at Regis over her shoulder. "I just went for a walk."

"Don't leave me! Please don't! I'll…I'll…be…" but she couldn't really speak, her body was trembling too much and she just cried and cried.

"Regis, why don't you put her out?" Vernon said, coming up the stairs. "Hey, you're alright. I'm fine, Root. No, you didn't hurt me. I'm...oof, you're strong…yes, I'm fine."

It was Vernon's turn to hold the sobbing woman while her other two mates exchanged amused looks, yet both understood why she was so upset and her emotions frazzled.

"I'm not doing that because this is healthy for her to work through. This is all pent up feelings and energy that she needs to get out." He said quietly, putting a kettle of water on the grate over the fireplace. "And it's…that time."

"I…I thought you…you both…didn't want…to…be…I thought you…were…"

"Yes, we can see and hear what you thought, Root." Vernon said, stroking her hair. "Calm yourself, my forest queen. None of us is going to leave you. Dandelion chose his words poorly. You know for a bard he really says the wrong thing sometimes."

"Tell me about it." Geralt and Regis said in unison.

"Come on now, Root. That's enough." Roche said, sitting with her on the bed. "We're all here. We can talk about what went on earlier another time. No, you're not bad. You're talking nonsense because you're upset and exhausted from crying. It all just escalated so quickly, with a misunderstanding thrown in."

Root rested on Vernon's chest as he held and comforted her.

"This is going to take too long using a kettle. I'll be back, my dear. I'm going to put some water on for your bath." He said and headed down.

Geralt slipped off his heavy winter cloak and tossed his boots next to the fireplace to dry. He then pulled up a chair near the bed, tugged off Root's boots, slipped off the socks, and took her feet and into his lap, rolling his strong thumbs into her soles. It caused Root to almost instantly relax. She became quiet, closed her eyes and let herself be held by Vernon.

"Nice. Can I get one of those next?" Roche said, shooting the Wolf a grin. "I'm sorry for what I…."

"No." Geralt interrupted. "Don't be. You were right. Old habits and all. I'm working on it. And no, you don't get a foot rub, Blue. You know its weird calling you that?"

Vernon nodded. "It's odd hearing it and then remembering to answer to it. But it works. Well, who knew a foot massage could quiet you so quickly? Did you fall asleep?"

"I did." Geralt said with a grin. "All of the body's nerves have a connection to the feet. Hit the right spot and you can create various sensations."

"You're so very good to me, Geralt. And no, Ver…Blue, it just feels really good." Root replied softly as Geralt gently tugged each of her toes and carressed the sides of her feet. "I don't deserve any of you."

Geralt was glad her eyes were closed because he couldn't stop himself from rolling his own. Vernon, however, was a bit more diplomatic; as one might expect from a man of politics and kingly missions.

"I'm not sure any of us deserve anything." He began.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, if various persons are correct, it would seem we humans, and let us say other than humans excepting elves, came to this world via the…what is it called again?"

"Conjunction of the Spheres." Geralt answered. "Shit, are you going to get all metaphysical?"

Roche grinned. "Hey, you knew the answer. Anyways, if they're right, how can we claim to deserve anything on this plane of existence? If our being here is an accident, then we deserve nothing; are entitled to nothing. Therefore, you are correct, you don't deserve our love. But, no let me finish, let…me finish. So everything we have cannot be deserved, but is rather earned. We are with you not because you deserve it or are entitled to our love, but because we want to be. You've earned our love and admiration, Root. We give it freely."

She regarded him with her pine green eyes and he kissed her nose.

"And on the subject of giving things freely…here." He said, lacing his fingers with hers. "Go ahead. I trust you."

Geralt remained quiet but paused in the massage. Root looked at the Witcher, and he gave her an encouraging nod, so she began the siphon and drew Vernon's strong energy into her body. And immediately the soldier felt the difference and he looked at Geralt with wide eyes.

"You weren't kidding. That's strong." He said, amazed as the woman's skin began to shimmer with golden light. "What do I taste like to you?"

"Peoples' vitality has a taste and a feeling for me. If that makes sense." she said with a sigh, feeling relief from the feed. "Geralt feels like fire and tastes salty. Whereas Regis feels like water and tastes sweet, like mead. But you…you feel chilly and yet taste like cinnamon."

"What did that man from the Eternal Fire taste like? Just curious." Geralt asked.

Root screwed up her face as if swallowing something awful.

"Even the memory of that puts a yucky taste in my mouth. He was like, well, the only word I can think of is rancid. Like something gone really, really bad." She replied, sticking her tongue out as if to rid herself of a bad taste.

Root stopped the draw and slipped her fingers from Roche's hand, which tingled and felt slightly numb, but otherwise he was fine.

"See?" he said, beaming at her. "I knew you could do it. I wasn't afraid before, just surprised. I imagine a real foe would've been terrified to feel that though."

"And he was." Geralt said, resuming the foot rub and a grateful Root sighed happily. "I forgot, and apparently so did Regis, that you used that same technique, the throat hold, on that cultist. Yet you didn't kill him. You spared his life, stopping the draw before he passed out."

"Although maybe I should have. Killed him that is." She replied quietly, looking down. "Maybe poor Errol wouldn't have his speech impediment had I ended those men rather than spared them."

"Root, listen to me." Roche said, turning her chin to face him. "Mercy can be a powerful message and ally, just as death can be. I'm not saying mercy is always the right choice. I am, after all, a man who frequently ignored cries for mercy or was ordered to do so. But there is a place for it."

"And your kindness toward Errol won for you a good friend." Geralt added. "So you know very well what mercy and kindness can do. It's just as likely that those men may have changed their lives. But it was their choice."

"Stars above is Geralt talking about philosophy?" Regis asked, walking in with Dandelion, each carrying a large stock pot of hot water. "In the tub there, master bard; Thank you so much."

Regis too emptied his water into the bath, while the poet poured in the bubbles, making the steaming water fill with frothy, mirrored balls that filled the air with the scent of strawberries and roses. It reminded the Witcher of a certain red haired beauty, the sorceress Triss Merigold. The very woman who, so many weeks ago now, they'd set out to find, hoping she could help Root. But their adventure had taken them in quite a different direction than Oxenfurt and further Novigrad. Places where he knew they were not welcome, at least for the time being.

"In you go, my dear." Regis said. "I have tea ready for you as well. For a keep full of men, Geralt, you certainly had a well stocked supply of herbs for menstrual relief."

Geralt kissed Root's toes and then she stood up, shrugged out of her clothes and stepped into the bath, sinking into the deep wooden tub.

"They're good for other things as well." He said "As you're perfectly aware."

"Indeed." Regis said, although still amused. "I'll be up shortly, my dear. Have your bath and I'll bring you your lunch."

"But it's a bit early, Regis." Roche said, getting up for a stretch.

"It is a bit. But I have a feeling she'll be falling asleep after the bath and she should eat. Dandelion, come on. I know it's hard to believe but she can actually manage a bath without you."

The hot water felt so very good on Root's cramped muscles in the lower back and belly and she reclined in comfort, letting the water soothe her.


	69. Chapter 69

Chapter 69

* * *

Elsewhere, the aen seidhe Speaker Errol Dorren and Lambert stood together in the training yard. Dark haired Lambert drew the string of a shortbow to his cheek, took aim and fired an arrow into the training dummy, landing a direct hit, piercing the hay filled burlap that spilled straw. The elven marksman nodded approvingly.

"Fou're quite skilled, master witcher. Have voo used a bow in combat much?"

"Nah, not much. We have a compact crossbow we favor over the more traditional bows. Still, never hurts to be trained in a few different weapons as backups. How about yourself?" Lambert asked.

"I have indeed. Happily, vost times they've been used to bring in our supper. Still, the arrow bites into all flesh equally, vith no distinction feetween men and veast, erm beast. Excuse my language. Its vorse today than it has veen." Errol said.

"Do you mind if I asked what happened?"

"Not at all. My jaw vas smashed vy Eternal Fire cultists. Vhich is the reason we're here. Ve…we, had to flee from them but, well, they caught up vith us." He replied, remembering the encounter at the river's edge.

Lambert nodded and was sympathetic to the aen seidhe, having been the target of the Fire's vitriol himself for being a mutant. The young man leaned against the stone wall overlooking the main courtyard below wherein lie the stables and main gate. He looked out over the mountain valley, remembering the day he saw the large carriage home and mounted entourage racing toward them.

"May I ask you something?" he said. "About the werewolf?"

Errol regarded the man calmly and nodded. "Yes, of course. I'll vell, gods above, tell you what I can."

"How…how do you feel about her relationship to her…husbands?"

The elf was silent for a while, reflecting on how to reply. He knew what the young witcher was really getting at, but the once bitter and angry man was patient and understanding.

"I've watched the three of vhem grow into a unit that really vorks for dem. Them. It's…not what I could live wiff. And, I vasn't always very supportive of them. Or Root either." He began.

"Oh?" the witcher asked, turning to the elf. "That's interesting to hear. But you…well, never mind. Go on, please."

"I suppose I haff to go back a vit for you to understand. I'm supposing you know vat we hired Geralt to protect us and lead us to a new region foo settle in?" Errol began, and Lambert nodded. "So before meeting him my village was attacked by the Eternal Fire. A pogram, racial cleansing I believe they called it, swept through the Bald Mountain region and many of my people ver, were, murdered. Ve could never hope to stand against them, so rather than all be martyrs ve fled. But before that ve were attacked by a werewolf."

Lambert's eyes widened but he politely remained silent.

"I bear the scars on my body, but mostly such an attack scars one internally." He paused, the fearful memory of the fierce attack playing out in his mind.

* * *

"Run! This way!" Errol shouted as his people ran screaming in every direction. "No! Not into the field! Come back!"

The forest was filled with roaring and snarling as the massive gray furred form loped around, crushing elven men and women to the ground, goring them savagely, feasting on their spurting blood and still-beating hearts. The screaming was all around him as elves fled and were chased down and pounded with savage fists, their skin flayed beneath razor claws. Errol Dorren Ysengith drew the string of the shortbow back and fired, slamming a griffin feathered arrow into the beast. It turned toward him and issued a challenge, ignoring the arrow as if a twig had fallen in a light breeze. Elf and beast ran toward each other and as the wolf leapt, Errol rolled, pulled a silver knife from his boot and slashed the beast's exposed belly. Hot blood splashed the aen seidhe as he nimbly got to his feet. With a howl of pain, the werewolf turned and swept its claws wide, opening the light leather armor that tore like parchment, and Errol could feel warmth begin to flow down his legs. He staggered and grunted, but the werewolf had been hurt as well and held back, pacing, circling, warily watching the silver blade in the elf's hand. The marksmen reached back, pulled a silver tipped arrow from the quiver and drew back just as the werewolf made to pounce. He loosed and then flung himself out of the way, the arrow lodging itself into the right eye of the beast. With a shriek of agony, it turned and fled into the forest.

Around him lay the bodies of countless elves, men, woman and even children. Their sightless eyes seemed to the Speaker to be shouting accusations of failure and it pained his heart. Staggering he fell to one knee, the blood staining the ground. He unclasped his cloak and wrapped it about his waist, tying it tightly, hoping it would staunch the blood. Then he rose, shouldered his shortbow, and using the longbow as a crutch, limped his way toward the large underground shelter where the people had fled to. But he collapsed on top of the doors and knew no more.

* * *

"Mother Melitele." Lambert whispered. "I'm so sorry, Errol. I wish I could've been there to help."

The elven man smiled graciously. "I appreciate that, sir. Zo you can imagine, I think, how I vould haff reacted upon discovering a werewolf was in ze company of the witcher ve hired to protect us."

"Oh, yeah." The young man said. "You probably wanted to kill her."

"Yes. And I vas terrified, but I had to keep it together for my people. But they, to my surprise, accepted her because they trusted Gwynbleidd. But I vas convinced Root vas lying to them all, fooling them, vaiting to pounce. When I found out Regis and Geralt were having relations viff her I vas disgusted, and said as much foo Geralt."

Lambert snorted. "I bet that pissed him off."

"I'm sure it did. But he only said that I should vet to know her." Errol replied. "I am really sorry about my speech. It's vad today."

"Don't worry about it. I'm keeping up." The young man replied with a grin. "So here you were, with every reason to hate and fear werewolves, and yet forced to reside next to one. That had to be hard, Errol. How did you manage it? Because I have to be honest; it's been a month with her here and if Geralt wasn't in a relationship with her that clearly matters a lot to him, she'd be dead."

Errol nodded. "I once felt as you do, Lambert. So I completely understand that sentiment."

"So what happened that made you change your mind?"

The elf thought back to that day, lying in the snow, when he felt Root's warm lupine body curl around his freezing form. He remembered resting on her back as she bore himself and Geralt back to the camp; never complaining, never crying out, even though her paws were stiff with ice and, as he would later find out, badly injured. Errol recalled the later confrontation with the forest maiden as she roasted him with her fierce green eyes and justified anger, with him retreating before her.

"She saved my life." The elven man said softly, looking up at the falling snow. "And Geralt's too. I had gone out for a morning patrol, and to scout our local area vhen the same cultists that led the pogram came upon me. I vas knocked out and dragged off, beaten. Fee and Geralt came to look vor me and Root carried us boff, both, to safety. Without her, Geralt and I surely would've frozen voo death. We never would've made it vack before the cold took us."

The young witcher was clearly surprised by the man's story, but he remained respectfully quiet as he continued.

"Voo might be tempted to think that I reached out foo her in friendship; out of gratitude. But you'd ve wrong. I selfishly wallowed in my own thoughts for about foo, two, weeks. And I said things to her, very hurtful things, on top of being the cause of further injury to her feet. But it was she who approached me. Look, I'm not trying voo make you like her, Lambert. I hope you don't fink, think, that's what this is about. You asked me and zo I wanted to share my story wiff you is all."

"No, no. I didn't think that at all, Errol. I'm just…surprised to learn about all that. Such a story sure doesn't square with my own experiences with werewolves."

"I wager that Root is the exception to many rules of our vorld. Zo all in all, I had come to see that I had become the very thing I most hated, a racist bigot toward a woman who had done nothing to deserve it. I judged her for the circumstances ov her birff, goodness, birth. Just like those who murdered my people in the forest. I'm not saying spare all werewolves. But I've learned that we should judge deeds, leaving other traits like race or even species aside. But I've whinged on long enough. Shall we continue to shoot, master witcher?"

"Nah. Let's head in. I'm fairly sure a good mug of ale will do that stutter of yours some good. What do you say?" Lambert said.

"I say thank the spirits! Lead on, friend."


	70. Chapter 70

Chapter 70 (another longer one)

* * *

After a long bath, Root had dried off, dressed herself in warm pajamas and crawled into bed for a nap, completely sleeping through the whole day. Some hours later, she opened her eyes to see handsome Emiel Regis seated next to her, leaning on the headboard, reading a book. The sun was just starting to set over the mountains, filling the bedroom with a lovely radiance as it shone through the crystalline glass of the balcony doors. He turned to her, marking his place.

"Hello, my love. Feeling any better?" he asked.

Root could feel that the cramps were intense and painful as she sat up and frowned at him.

"Sadly, not so much. I guess I know why I over reacted earlier." She said, giving him a sheepish look.

Regis chuckled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Indeed. I think many things contributed to the moments of highly charged emotions that played out today; the lunar cycle being one of them. But a bath, good food, tea and a little something later for dessert will make it all better won't it." He answered, holding her gaze for a moment.

She blushed and leaned into his chest, and he held her protectively, softly stroking her arm.

"Mmm yes, please." She replied with a girlish grin, nuzzling him. "Where are the others?"

"Oh, I'm sure they're about. Dandelion is most likely prepping dinner with Valonna. And I know Errol was out with…well, never mind that. Blue has come up a few times to check on you but otherwise I've no idea where he goes. It's no wonder he was Foltest's head of special forces; that man is a master of steath that would give many vampires a run for their money. It's amazing to me the number of times I've misjudged that man." Emiel explained. "But I should say this, my love. I too over reacted today and I apologize."

Root gazed up at him, trailing her fingers along the buttons of his shirt.

"Just like when you tried to get me to bite you." He continued. "Today I was afraid for Vernon and, having felt your powerful draw on myself, I immediately corrected you. So it would seem we both were a little off today."

"You're so very generous and patient with me." Root said. "I know my moods are frustrating at times. Father used to get very impatient. I would cry over the smallest things, and bawl over spilled goats' milk. Sometimes I wonder if that's why he kept me secluded; he figured no man would ever want a woman this…what do you and Geralt call it?"

"Silly." He said softly. "That would be a very cruel thing for a father to think about his daughter and, from what you've told me, Curamil doesn't strike me as a cruel man. But to be honest you do have moments and thoughts that are, well rather silly. But, my dear, that is a very normal female trait; one that I find charming and simply part of your character. Men have their faults and foibles too. Take this Lambert person; young and full of the urge to show off. And do you know why young men, and even some older men, engage in such things?"

Root shook her head and her stomach growled, making her smile.

"Someone is hungry." Regis said. "They do that because very often a male feels erm, how should I put this…inadequate. And the thinking is if they kill something big and powerful, it must mean their manhood must equally be big and powerful. Which is completely, well, silly. Of course their actions have nothing to do with how large their member is. Yet still, men will foolishly swagger about like proud cocks on a farmstead thinking it is so."

"Ahh, I see. Well, that is pretty silly isn't it. But my moments sure make Geralt upset on the days when I'm being particularly troublesome." She said, wincing as a shot of pain raced around her mid-section.

"My dear, Geralt is a man who has been with many women during his life for one reason or another. Maybe just a night to satisfy his urges. But with others it's more of a long term connection. Like with Yennefer, his first love and last wish. But he won't deny that he loves Triss too. And of course he loves you. What I'm trying to say is, the White Wolf has a variety of females in his life, each of whom is different; so he is used to a great many shades of female silliness and degrees of frustration. In other words, don't worry about it." The vampire said, kissing the top of her head. "I see you are very tired still, my sweet. Ahh here is our good man with supper for you."

"Hey, Roo." Dandelion said, setting the tray of food on the table. "Are you feeling any better?"

"As far as what happened earlier? Yes, much better. But this moon's cramps are bad. I'm sorry I missed lunch. Just needed the sleep I guess." She said as Regis helped her out of bed.

"No worries." The bard replied, giving her a warm hug. "I'm just glad you're alright. I thought we'd lost you to the loony bin for a moment."

"The what?" she said, sitting down to eat.

"Nah, never mind." He said. "Oh, Regis, Blue told me to give this to you. He's been poking around in the alchemy room and drew up this list. Holler if you need anything, Roo. I'm just downstairs."

"Thanks, D." she said, devouring the roast beef sandwich on marbled rye piled with sauerkraut. "Sweet spirits this is great!"

Regis unfolded the parchment and grinned, knowing exactly what the list of herbal ingredients was for. He glanced at Root and then tucked the note into his pocket.

"I know what that is." She said shyly, nibbling on a bit of carrot.

"Oh, do you now?" the vampire said with a light laugh. "Yes, yes it is his recipe for interrogation. You don't really want him to do that to you, do you?"

Root blushed and sipped from the glass of wine.

"You already know the answer to that." She answered shyly. "But really I just like…the…well…"

"My dear, Root. It is one of the most adorable things about you that you cannot even talk about your desires without turning as red as beggartick blossoms. The things you enjoy. Well, I'll leave that between you and him. But I shall go and get this started. It's a tincture; easy enough with the plants and good alcohol around this place. You finish up your supper, and I'll see you a bit later."

* * *

Elsewhere on that early evening, the White Wolf found himself in the great alchemy lab of the school. Seated at one of the many tables with a book open in front of him, surrounded by bubbling alembics and shelves full of herbs and preserved remains, one could almost mistake the white haired warrior for a university professor of biology from Oxenfurt. Beside him was a pot of coffee and he sipped, enjoying some quiet time in the library alone.

 _Celendine is one of the most numerous herbs of our land, growing as it does in the fields and forests of nearly every region from White Orchard to the far reaches of the northern mountains and Kaer Morhen. This makes this attractive flower one of the most needed items in any herbalists, and thus witchers', satchel. You might be tempted to ask your author why. Why would one desire such a common plant when it is so readily available to get in a pinch? Well, my students, I shall tell you. In Nature, when something is abundant it generally has properties that are widely helpful and beneficial to both men and beasts. Some say this is a gift from the gods, others the spirits, and still others believe that is just the way things are. Whatever the reason, these plants that grow so abundantly are also often very versatile. And we of the Wolf School have found this to be the case. Some of the more powerful potions that can be made are Blizzard and its enhanced version too. It is an essential ingredient in the enhanced version of Golden Oriole and it's necessary for the most basic of Swallow potions; something no witcher worth his or her salt should ever be without. Curiously there is only one decoction that your author has discovered that requires Celendine, the Wyvern Decoction. It is a necessary part of oils that are good against beasts and while I haven't found a way to use it for explosives or other items to be hurled at an enemy, I am confident that with more time and study we will._

 _So your homework for the end of this lesson is to go out and find at least five samples of Celendine, harvest them properly and make a tincture. Be sure to ask the headmaster to use the quality alcohol for this work. You will be using this tincture to make your first Swallow potion at the end of lesson two._

"You still go back and read those old lessons do you?" Lambert said, turning around one of the wooden chairs to sit on. "I don't remember getting much out of them."

Geralt gave his fellow witcher a grin and shook his head, marking the place with a weathered ribbon.

"You never were one for the books." Geralt said. "Coffee?"

"You're joking right?"

"I am. What's up, Lambert?"

"Are you pissed off at me?" the young man asked, his rich gold eyes guarded.

Geralt shook his head and sipped.

"No. I understand completely why you think and feel as you do toward Root. I'd rather you didn't provoke her but I'm not your father. You do what you need to do. Except kill her. Do that, and I shall be _more_ than pissed."

Lambert sat quietly for a few moments, reflecting on what Errol had told him. The young witcher found it nigh impossible to believe that a werewolf would save a persons' life, especially when it seemed that doing so cost her much.

"The elf told me about the attack on his people; the pogrom and the werewolf."

Geralt nodded, slid the book to the end of the table, folded his fingers and listened.

"I can't…I just can't believe that he would be so accepting of having a monster around after something like that happened. But…he also told me about…" he paused, not quite knowing what to say. "Is it true, Geralt? Did she save you? Well, you and Errol?"

The great hunter regarded Lambert with eyes that were filled with memories. Some of them painful, as he remembered Root's terrible injuries to the feet, and some mirthful, as when Regis had gotten her high on redcoat caps to ease the pain. The White Wolf remembered Emiel Regis fussing over him and his frostbitten fingers and toes and smiled, recalling how the healer had ordered him off his feet with no watch until he was healed.

"Yes, it's true. Her sense of smell led us right to him since the wind had covered any tracks and trace of where he'd gone. Without Root's speed and body heat, it's very likely that Errol and I would've frozen to death before getting back. And when we did make it back, Regis' herbal remedy for frostbite was nigh on miraculous for all of us. But Root sustained the worst wounds of all." Geralt paused and sighed. "Yet she never said a word."

"What happened?" Lambert asked, resting his arms on the backrest of the chair.

"We're not exactly sure. Maybe she stepped on something in the old garrison we passed through. But most likely her paws had simply carried too much for her to bear and the skin split. But because they were so packed with snow and frozen with cold, she didn't notice until much later. By then they were…well, it wasn't pretty let's just say that." Geralt said, pouring some more the aromatic, rich brew.

Lambert was silent for a long time. Geralt knew the young witcher was struggling with his thoughts, much like he did at times. Most especially as he did when he'd first met Root and decided not to turn her over to Falithe aen Caem.

"I see." He finally said and rose from the chair. "Well, I'm glad you're home, Wolf. Don't get all mushy on me or anything but…"

"Go and have a drink already ya whoreson." Geralt said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm busy."

The young man gave the White Wolf a cocksure smile and pushed the chair in.

"Yeah then fuck you too." He answered with a smirk. "Night, Wolf."

* * *

Later, Root and Dandelion were sitting on the bed in Geralt's room, with Regis reclining at the table reading a book off and on, while the bard was attempting to teach the forest maiden how to play Barrel.

"So, you have various types of cards, right? These are your ranged weapons, like archers. They go in the middle row because…"

"Because they can go further?" she replied.

"Exactly so." Dandelion said, stretching out a leg. "And cards like these, like siege engines, go in the very back."

"And then your fighter types go in the front row?" Root asked.

"Just so. See how each card has a number value on it? Your only goal is to have a higher number than everyone else when they're added up. It's really that simple." The bard explained. "But the catch is, when you're out of cards, everyone else can lay what they want and rack up points and you can't. So you want to play aggressively sometimes, sometimes not. Understand?"

"I think so. Should we try a match?" she asked.

"Oh, this I have to see." Regis said, pulling up a chair to the bedside.

"Finally!" Dandelion said, shuffling the deck. "OK, I'll deal. There, those are your ten cards. Now that's all the cards you get and you have to win two rounds."

"Oh, and don't forget, you can pass. But if you pass, you don't get to lay any more cards until your opponent passes or wins. If they too pass, whoever has the highest wins that round." Regis explained.

"Ah of course." The poet said. "You go first, Roo."

Root picked up her ten cards and held them in a fanned out manner. She had been dealt a few weather cards, siege engines, Temerian infantry and…"

"How strange for him to turn up in your hand, my sweet." The vampire said.

But the werewolf decided to be bold and placed her first card in the second row.

"The Time Mage, Caranthir." She said, looking at her friend.

"Ahhh I see. Well, I'll see the Navigator of the Hunt with something you'll like; the Ancient Leshen."

Root gasped. "I want it!"

"Well, tell you what, Roo. You win this match; you can have it as your first card in your own Barrel deck. Deal? Your turn."

"Hmmm, snow card. Blizzard on your horny head!" she said with a smile.

"Well played, Root." Regis said with a nod of approval.

"Hmm, alright then, Nilfgaardian archer."

The two continued to lay cards with Dandelion winning the first round and Root winning the second. And as they began the third round…

"So you got the hang of this, Roo? It's not too complicated right? Normally formal tourneys are played faster but we're just having a bit of fun."

Root yawned hugely.

"I'm getting there but…" Root gasped and suddenly leapt from the bed, sending the cards fluttering and ran behind the room divider.

Regis and Dandelion looked over when they heard booted feet come up the stairwell. A moment later, the figure of Lambert shadowed the doorway.

"Uh oh…" the poet said under his breath, gathering up the Barrel cards.

Regis regarded the man and nodded.

"Good evening, Master Lambert. How can we help you?" the vampire said calmly.

"I'd like to speak to…to Root." He replied, looking to the corner with the tub, knowing by his keen hearing exactly where the werewolf was hiding.

There then came the sound of cloth tearing and a soft whine from the corner. Dandelion looked at Regis and the vampire rose from the chair.

"She's terrified of you, master witcher. May I inquire as to what you might want to say? Your words earlier, if you'll pardon me for bringing it up, weren't exactly warm and friendly."

"Look, this isn't easy for me alright?" the warrior replied.

Emiel regarded the man quietly but Dandelion let his thoughts be known. He stood up, straightened his fuchsia colored doublet and tilted his peacock feathered hat forward.

"Oh, well poor you, Lambert. From what I understand you said something fairly awful to my dear friend, scared her to the point where she's hiding and, lemme see if I got this right…this isn't easy for you? Yeah, I'm real cut up about…"

"Oh, Melitele's lily white bottom, shut up before you get my fist." The witcher said with a great eye roll and crossing of his arms.

"Gentleman, please. Root, come here, my dear. Yes, I know you did. It's fine. I'm with you; you've nothing to fear from him." Regis said, making sure to look right at Lambert when uttering the last words of that phrase.

The large ulfhedinn werewolf peered out from around the room divider, looking very comical with her long ears sticking out sideways and her claws holding onto the wood and paper stand as if it would protect her from a witchers' blade. She slid one great paw forward, then the other and slowly walked over, standing on her elongated back legs. Root tried to hide behind Regis and peered at Lambert, her pine green eyes filled with fear, her lupine body trembling.

"Definitely a Skellige breed. Smaller than average though." The young witcher said. "Wait, what did you mean by, "…I know you did."? Can she talk to you?"

"She can…erm, think to me and I hear it. Well, internally hear it. You'll forgive me for not explaining to you why that is; it's a unique component of our union." Regis said in a guarded but not unfriendly tone.

"I see." He answered and stepped forward. "Dark brown fur, eh? Also unique for a breed that is normally steely grey with almost indigo hints."

Root backed away and bumped into the table, knocked over a chair and put her front paws over her muzzle and whined. Regis watched the man carefully but stepped aside so Lambert could approach. She felt a hand touch the underside of her muzzle and opened her eyes.

"Hey, beast." Lambert said softly with a much kinder look in his eyes. "Thanks for saving my brother."

Regis and Dandelion exchanged looks but remained silent. The werewolf melted away in a magical moment and there stood the forest maiden, bare skinned and surprised, looking up at the young man who was now touching her chin.

"You're…you're welcome." She replied, as he lowered his hand.

"How did you do that?" he asked, looking her up and down. "You can change at will?"

Root nodded. "I can."

"But everything we know says werewolves change with the full moon or during moments of stress and fear. They lose control and and shift. If you can change at will that…well that makes you something else." The witcher said.

"I'm the daughter of a cursed man. Not a cursed woman myself, master witcher. Perhaps that has made the difference?" she replied with a shrug. "Does…does it make you not want to kill me?"

Lambert grinned. "It might surprise you to hear this but, yes. I slay monsters, its true; but with purpose, knowing my targets. If you're not a cursed woman then according to the books, you're not a werewolf."

Root looked over to Regis.

 _No, not right now. He doesn't need to know that._

But Lambert noted the exchange and glanced between Regis and Root.

"Did you just communicate to each other without words again?" he asked. "That is seriously amazing. Man, if we witchers could do that; communicate strategies when fighting together as a unit without having to speak, we'd be kicking more ass and taking names."

"You take peoples' names?" Root asked, tilting her head and then yawned again, covering her mouth.

"What? Oh!" Lambert said and then laughed heartily. "I guess that does sound fairly odd doesn't it?"

The woman gave him a tiny, shy smile and Regis came to her side and put his arm around her.

"Well, anyways." The witcher said. "Thank you. I'm not, you know, saying I want to be friends or anything. Just…well, good night."

As Lambert descended the stairs he passed the White Wolf and gave him a punch to the shoulder. Geralt walked into the room shaking his head.

"What did he want?" the Witcher asked, nodding to the bard as he took the dishes down. "Hey, Dandelion, thanks for dinner."

Regis poured Root a cup of tea from the kettle and handed it to her.

"He…he thanked me for saving you." She said sipping. "Ooh, this is a delicious blend. That redcoat stuff tastes terrible."

Geralt raised an eyebrow. "Lambert said…thank you…to a werewolf? I think the world may be ending."

"Well, he did point out the very thing we've known for a long time. Our Root here is not truly a werewolf; not in the textbook sense. Especially since the one part of werewolf lore you did inherit has been done away with. But we don't have a word for a person who shifts at will into what would otherwise be recognized as an ulfhedinn werewolf." Regis explained. "Had our circumstances of arrival been different, perhaps explaining the unique nature of our lady here would've helped us avoid many unpleasantries. Come; finish your tea, love. It's your bedtime."

The White Wolf turned down the covers of the grand bed and Root finished the herbal tea for cramps.

"You're most likely right, Regis." Geralt said. "But as they say, shit happens."

"More like the Wild Hunt happens." Emiel said, slipping off his coat and unbuttoning his shirt.

Root climbed into bed and Regis lay next to her, curling himself up to her back, resting an arm over her waist, trailing soft fingers lightly over the bit of skin near her hip. Geralt extinguished the candles and the bedroom was lit with the soft glow of the fire that crackled pleasantly in the darkness. Then he too crawled into bed, facing the forest maiden.

"It's like we're in…the…carriage again." She said sleepily with a big yawn. "You know what? I kind of miss our tiny home on wheels. And the memories contained there! Oh my, if walls could talk. I don't think I'll ever forget waking up for the first time inside its walls. I suppose they aren't really walls though are they? More like canvas with…fur. And you were there, my handsome Regis, reading. I do so love it when you read; you're so very intense and so wise. And remember the nights when Dandelion slept in there too? And you read to us, Regis? I like listening to your voice when you read. Oh, you know I should get my amulets from there and start making more of those too. Do you think there is some spare cloth around here that I could use, Geralt? Or maybe I'll start making besoms. There has to be some wood and twine about, yes?"

Geralt and Regis were both quiet as the woman kept on talking. The White Wolf regarded her with his mutated golden eyes as she went on.

"Do you think I could start making some potions with the herbs in the alchemy lab? I'm not nearly as skilled as Regis but I could sell them with my amulets some day; if we ever get to a market that is. I could make love potions. People always go for the love potions; did you know that? I only help people draw love to themselves, not, you know, not force anyone to love another. As if that's possible! That's not possible is it, Regis? I mean with your power could you, but you wouldn't because you're so honorable. Do you think we'll travel to Oxenfurt? Is that where Dandelion went to school? I think he mentioned that once. A graduate of, what did he say…sumacomelouder? I think that's it. Maybe when this Rabidvin is dead? Probably not, right? Do they have schools there? I never went to school you know."

Unseen by Root, Emiel was grinning at Geralt, trying not to laugh as she went on and on. Where her bout of chattiness came from neither of them knew for sure, but neither wanted to interrupt. The Witcher just remained silent with a slight smile on his face and listened.

"This is your school though isn't it, Geralt. How long did you go here? Did you like school? I think I would've liked school. Do werewolves get to go to school in the cities? I wish Vesemir and the others liked me better. I would sure like to listen to the stories he tells the children too. Do you think if I'm really quiet I can sneak in and listen? He won't hurt me for that, will he? That's probably not good either. Geralt, why are there only three of you here? Did something happen to the others of the Wolf School? And why is this place falling down? It must be very old, yes? Like elven times old? I wonder if there are old elven structures down in the deeper levels of the keep. I saw some old things down there, wrapped up in cloths and dust. What are all those things? And…oh…that is so lovely. Did you know your eyes kind of glimmer in the firelight, Geralt?"

The Witcher remained quiet and simply raised an eyebrow in silent response.

"Did your mutations hurt you? I asked that already didn't I. Did I? I don't remember. I don't remember things sometimes. Is that bad, Regis? Regis?" she said, hearing a soft snore behind her. "Is he sleeping? That's not right, he doesn't sleep."

The White Wolf admired the chatty werewolf and blinked slowly.

"Are you sleepy my witcher?" she asked, trailing her fingers along the chain of the wolf pendant, looking into his golden eyes. "I sometimes get really sleepy when listening to Regis read or even if you're just talking. You have a very melodic cadence to your voice, White Wolf. I…oh my…these yawns are…really…eee…big."

Geralt blinked again, much more slowly and this time she followed so he mirrored her, reflecting back her own tiredness, guiding her. The Witcher relaxed his breathing and heart rate, knowing full well that the keen-eared woman could hear it.

"You are so very strong my Geralt. I…don't know what I would've done…had this…what was his name again? The elf…who…"

Geralt put a finger to her lips and then trailed his fingers over her face, closing her eyelids.

"Shh that's enough, Root. Rest." He said softly and she sighed, relaxing into Regis. "No need to think on that before bed."

"You…you said that…when we…met…"

"I did. Sleep, Root." He said, kissing her fingertips and holding them until they stopped fidgeting.

When Regis heard her quiet snore he opened his eyes and looked over to Geralt who was just calmly lying on his back, gazing up at the ceiling.

"She sure was loquacious. I think that brief conversation with Lambert bore some good fruit." The vampire said softly.

Geralt nodded. "I think it took a large weight off her shoulders knowing he wasn't so focused on wanting to hurt her anymore. She sure had a lot to say."

Regis chuckled quietly. "A month of being extra cautious and afraid will take a toll on a person. Ah, my dear lady. So very easily distracted you are. Do you know, Geralt, that this weakness of hers could very easily be exploited should anyone but us discover it?"

"I do know. It's a good thing you put magical protection in her mind, although it doesn't seem to cover things like suggestion. Heck, I bet I could come up behind her, close her eyes with my hand and she'd go out."

"Oh? Well, don't tell Vernon. That master of stealth would be using that to get her between the sheets all the time." Regis replied, quietly slipping out of the bed, tucking the blanket up to Root's back.

"Roche doesn't have to do much to get Root into his bed." Geralt said, lifting his arm so Root could nestle closer to him. "Have you noticed how weak she gets when he looks at her? Where are you off to?"

"I have noticed. It's to do with his profession. Not unlike yourself." The vampire said, checking the fire. "Oh, you know, I don't really sleep and I don't feel much like lying in bed this fine winter evening. I think I'll have another walk around, check on Valonna and Errol, see how they are faring. I wager little Cera misses Root something terrible. The wee girl does so love our werewolf born woman. Good night, Geralt."

"Good night, old friend." Gwynbleidd replied, closing his golden eyes and catching a bit of sleep himself.


	71. Chapter 71

Chapter 71 (a shortie for my faithful readers)

* * *

Elsewhere, on that very night, the Emperor of Nilfgaard stood on the wide balcony of the kings' suite overlooking what would be, come spring, a grand garden. But for now the palace gardens of Vizima castle lay empty under a blanket of white as snow fell like glittering powder. His dark brown eyes swept over the city, at last quiet after more than a month of unrest. Rebellion was the order of the day for those whose hearts still bled blue and gold lillies. And Emhyr var Emreis was not the least bit concerned when reports would reach his desk noting that yet another group of Temerian freedom fighters had been put to the sword for treason. It wasn't that he hated the Temerian people per se. Only that as a conquered nation, he felt they should accept their lot and adapt. Still, the leader of more than half the known world did not relish the idea of unwarranted brutality against commoners. And several of his soldiers were given severe punishments when it was discovered they'd been looting and raping like common thugs.

"Highness." Spoke a soft voice behind the emperor. "It has been confirmed that Cahir Mawr of Vicovaro is dead."

Emhyr's dark eyes were even as was his tone of voice.

"What of the Eternal Fire?" he said, turning his head.

"Also dead, your Grace. They were…" the voice trailed off, and the emperor turned to see the Chamberlain, who bowed low.

"They were what?"

"Butchered is the only way to say it, my lord. Our scouts found the entire group on the bank of the river. No attempt had been made to cover them. And while it's been some time, it was quite obvious that something massively powerful had delivered mortal wounds using…"

"Claws." Emreis finished. "She's more powerful than I thought. What of Vernon Roche?"

"No trace, your Highness. Everything in our scouts' report points to them fleeing to the keep in the Kaedweni mountains. It is most unlikely they'd have entered into Redania, seeing as their king is looking for them as well. And being that we have yet to conquer that wild land, our forces would not be welcome, and perhaps openly resisted."

Emhyr was silent and rested his palms on the cold marble railing of the balcony. Neither of his targets had been located or disposed of, but he was pleased that the small battalion of Eternal Fire had been dealt with.

"Do the witchers of Kaer Morhen have good relations with the Kaedweni court?" the emperor asked, turning around, leaning on the rail.

"Yes, Excellency. While I wouldn't say they were allies per se, the people of Kaedwen see the witchers as almost supernatural beings, protectors of the valley. Superstitious nonsense to be sure, but they won't easily be swayed into letting our soldiers cross their lands."

"And we've just now put down the last of Temeria's war dogs. Save one. He's a credit to his once king, Chamberlain; this Vernon Roche. What do we know about him?"

"Not much. One soldier subjected to manual uncoiling gave up information before expiring. The rest died in silence, refusing to surrender anything about their commander. He said only that this Roche was a whores' son. Nothing is known of his father or mother and to the best of our knowledge he has no kin or friends who could be used to get to him." The Chamberlain explained, trying to hide the fact that he was cold.

"And we've no reason to think he'd continue on with the White Wolf's group. Especially since Cahir is dead; no doubt discovered by the cunning soldier."

"That may not be so, your Grace." The Chamberlain said stepping forward. "There is someone who may have prompted him to remain. We found this journal in the false bottom of a chest in his room. It contains entries about the woman Root."

"The werewolf? What does it say?" Emhyr asked, walking into the bedroom with a grateful, if chilly, Chamberlain following.

"Apparently there was some to do here in the palace concerning a mage who was once hunting for the beast as well. Roche and the Blue Stripes, and the Witcher helped in the capture of an Arklan aen Caem. Other entries speak of…ahem, I shall not bore your grace with the details. Let us say simply that Vernon Roche has become quite smitten with this Root of the woodlands. Leaving me little reason to think he'd abandon her. In fact, if we could capture her, it's very likely he would be willing to surrender in order to save her."

The emperor tossed another log into the great fireplace and motioned for a goblet of wine to be poured. The Chamberlain did as bid, laying the journal on Emhyr's highly polished wood desk that was strewn with maps of the region.

"Or knowing the danger his proximity to her could bring, he did abandon them and is hiding out in some unknown region of the wilds; waiting for anyone bearing the banner of the Great Sun to come by."

"Just so, my lord. That is true." The Chamberlain said with a nod. "Would you care for your smoking jacket and pipe as well?"

"No. Now leave me." Emreis said, waving the man out.

The Chamberlain left after another low, theatrical bow and closed the large double doors silently. The Emperor of Nilfgaard was not altogether displeased about the report. The cultists had been dealt with, as he'd planned, without him or his people being a part of it; which would get Radovid off his back and out of his lands for a good long while. The religious man was in a war against mages and heretics, and while Nilfgaard had mages, the Redanian leader wasn't foolish enough to begin an all out crusade into the lands of the Great Sun. Especially since he and all the surrounding regions were well aware of what Emreis had done to the body of King Foltest, Lord Commander of the North. And then he knew. He knew then how to provoke Vernon Roche into showing himself. Emhyr steepled his fingers and leaned back into the oxblood leather chair and and called for his scribe.


	72. Chapter 72

Chapter 72

* * *

Root opened her eyes and sat up slowly, running a hand through her brown hair, a look of confusion in her pine green eyes. She was in a room she did not recognize, large and spacious, with a vaulted ceiling and enormous windows. Having woken up in strange, unknown places before, she did not panic but was rather wary. Outside, the waning moon shone pale and lovely against a dark blue backdrop of stars. Just in front of her, opposite the plush couch she'd be lying on, was a grand fireplace. Larger than any she'd ever seen and carved from smooth, polished stone, guarded on either side by twin pillars decorated with curling ivy leaves. But it was the figure standing in front of it, their back to her, which drew Root's gaze.

"Ah, you're awake." Spoke a musical voice as the figure turned.

Pale and tall, very tall, an elven man dressed in a simple ivory tunic and pants clasped his hands behind his back. Root gazed on the face; smooth like the marble of the mantle, with dark eyes set high like most elven folk and pointed ears that were just visible through the long, straight blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. There was only one word to describe him; regal.

Root, having learned much in her time spent with warriors, remained silent.

"Wine?" he asked with a gracious tilt of his noble head. "I find a glass helps calm my nerves."

He motioned to the elegantly carved wooden side table next to her, upon which sat a carafe of dark burgundy wine and twin crystal flutes.

"Ah, of course. Allow me." The stranger said and poured himself a glass, sipped and nodded to her. "All is well."

"No…no thank you, your Grace." She said softly, trying to recall Dandelion's teachings.

The elf laughed. A handsome trilling sound that was very pleasant to listen to and a genuine smile lit his pale features. Root flushed red, and he realized she thought he was laughing at her.

"Forgive my mirth, lady of the forest. I may be a man of grace and elegance, but I am no king deserving of such a title. My name is Ge'els and on behalf of his majesty I welcome you."

* * *

"Root. Root, wake up." Regis said, his face deeply concerned. "Damn it. Geralt. Geralt!"

The Witcher opened his eyes and groaned.

"What is it?" he said, sitting up and running a hand through his milk white hair.

"She's dreaming again." Regis said giving the hunter a look. "Although I don't know who it is she's speaking to. Pale, tall, blonde hair?"

"Shit."

* * *

"His majesty?" Root asked, rising and finding that she was dressed in clothing she did not recognize.

A gown of the deepest blue crushed velvet hugged her form and upon her throat was a single pearl encircled with silver oak leaves on a blue ribbon. A full-length mirror caught her gaze and she turned, gasping as she beheld the woman within, hardly recognizing herself. Root's short brown hair lay in curled, chocolate brown tresses along her shoulders, while upon her brow was a circlet, set too with a single pearl. The dress' long sleeves ended at the wrists and as she turned, she noticed the sapphire glass slippers upon her feet.

"The gown pleases you, lady?" the elf named Ge'els said softly, remaining still and politely at a distance. "It was your mothers' favorite."

The forest maiden turned to him, surprised.

"What?" she asked, her heart leaping in her chest. "You…you knew my mother?"

* * *

"I can't wake her." Regis said, frustrated. "She's very, very far away. We need something to draw her back."

"I thought your bond with her ran deep, Regis." Geralt said, dressing himself quickly. "What or who could possibly interfere with that?"

"Distance. Or in this case, time and space. She's not in this world; not fully." The vampire said.

"How can that be? How can that happen here?" the Witcher said, grinding his teeth.

"I don't know. But the longer she lingers in their world, the less of a chance we have of bringing her back. Gods damn Caranthir! They learned from their last attempt to enter her dreams that a heavy handed approach wasn't going to work. Who is this person she's talking to?" Regis asked, holding her limp hand.

"Ge'els. Eredin's viceroy when the cavalcade is out traveling the worlds. He's a master of illusion and would give Emhyr var Emreis a run for his money as far as smooth talking. I'll be back. I know what we have to do." Geralt said, making for the stairwell.

* * *

The elven man nodded graciously, poured a glass of wine and handed Root the fine cut crystal.

"I did. She was a woman of supreme beauty, and yet an aura of simplicity always seemed to linger about her. I miss her at times. It cheers my heart to see you alive and well, daughter of Selithlene." Ge'els said, gazing into Root's green eyes.

"Where am I?" Root asked, tilting her head. "What is this place? Where is my Regis?"

Ge'els turned his head and smiled warmly.

"Ah, you wish to see your friends and loved ones? Of course you do. Where are my manners? I can certainly take you to them. Their chambers are in the opposite wing so they are never far away. But if the lady will pardon it, his majesty wishes to meet with you first; to welcome you home."

* * *

"No, no, no, Root, don't drink that!" Regis said, trying desperately to wake the sleeping woman.

"Why? What will happen if she does?" Roche asked, having come up the stairs when Geralt came dashing down in a hurry. "Can you see her dream? What's happening?"

"I can, yes. When you consume food or drink from another world it binds you to that realm. No, no my love. Please, come back to me."

"But isn't it just a dream?" Dandelion said, leaning his arms on the backrest of a chair. "How can a dream affect a person like that?"

"It is a dream. But dreams take place in a space outside of time; which is why some dreams seem to last for days, even weeks, when in actuality only seconds have passed in our world. And because they take place in such a liminal space Caranthir can access peoples' dreams and ensnare them; their bodies eventually vanishing to join the trapped mind in the world of the aen elle. Mind you this costs the Time Mage a great deal so most of the time people don't have to fear. But there is a reason many folk traditions exist that have to do with warding one's bed, or placing amulets on the posts of the bed, or wearing certain herbs while sleeping. It is widely believed that things, the Wild Hunt among them, can influence dreamers."

Geralt came dashing back carrying a crate full of various items. An incense burner, a glass beaker filled with a dark liquid and a large pan among them.

"Sit her up and get this down her throat." The Witcher said, handing the beaker to Regis. "What did Ge'els give her?"

"Wine." The vampire said, easing Root's body upright, holding her against his chest. "Vernon, take the dish and get ready."

"We have to force a shift. That'll be enough to bring her mind back to this world. But this shit reeks when burned so try to bear it." Geralt said, lighting a charcoal briquette, placing it into the flat iron burner. "She has to throw up the wine first. In their world. She has to reject it. Then I'll add the incense."

* * *

"Home?" Root asked, savoring the wine that tasted of sweet grapes and honey, forgetting that a moment ago she'd refused. "What do you mean?"

"This was always meant to be your home." Ge'els said politely with a friendly smile. "I am most humbled to be the first to welcome you. The vintage is a fine one is it not? A blend of the finest fruits our orchards have to offer infused in honey made from our own apiary. I can show you if you like. I think a woman of the woods would enjoy a stroll through the palace gardens, yes?"

Root's mind was confused and foggy and she blinked, trying to reach for memories that seemed to be crying out to her from some immeasurable distance.

"Are you unwell, lady?" Ge'els asked, his face the very image of concern. "Take my arm and we'll find the healer."

"No, I…this…this is wrong. Regis!" she called and Ge'els face fell. "Regis, where are you!?"

* * *

"Good! Yes! Come on, Root!" the vampire said, hearing her in his mind.

He tilted her chin up and poured more of the purgative into her mouth.

* * *

"I…" Root's body heaved and she vomited up the wine, staining the fine gown she wore.

Yet as she looked, the fabric began to fade and she blinked, confused. Her green eyes looked at the elf, whose placid, charming features were now a mask of wrath. Calm, deadly, wrath. The room around them too faded away, and only the aen elle seemed a solid figure standing on a world of stars.

"Where am I?!" Root screamed into the cold darkness of space. "Regis! Geralt!"

"So close." Ge'els said softly. "Caranthir! Open the portal!"

* * *

Root's body lurched forward and she threw up a mix of bile and blood, but Vernon was ready and caught it.

"Now, Geralt, he's coming!" Regis said, monitoring the illusion.

The Witcher sprinkled the wolfsbane incense onto the hot charcoal and blew on the briquette. It smoked up instantly, making all of them cough but Geralt put it right under Root's nose.

"Breathe, Root." He said and then looked at them. "This is going to be bad. This shit makes werewolves shift without them being able to control it, mimicking the power of the full moon, so we can draw them out. However, it often makes them more aggressive. Regis, you got her tight?"

"Yes."

* * *

A whirling vortex of light sprang into existence at the side of the elven man and he turned, bowing graciously as the image of the armored Navigator strode forth, staff in hand. Root's eyes widened, looking with fear at the skull faced helm crowned with an iron halo as if he were some sort of god.

"YOU!" she roared with fury and then gagged on the most awful scent that had ever assaulted her nostrils.

"Well done, Ge'els. Go home. I'll bring her." Caranthir said, lifting the visor, and nodding to the portal. "Welcome home, slave."

Root looked up into the elven face, her green eyes piercingly bright and she staggered to her feet, facing the one who haunted her dreams.

"NO! No more!" she said in a voice that echoed throughout the worlds as the daughter of Selithlene stood at the crossroads of the multiverse. "Never again!"

Root extended a hand toward the Time Mage and he hesitated, his eyes narrowing, cautious. He then felt a horrifying sensation race through his body, as if a force were holding him in place and a million wounds suddenly opened on his skin. The aen elle's chest ached and he clutched at his heart as his knees buckled. He looked up and for the first time in his long life, he felt fear as precious energy flowed from his body and streamed toward and into the woman like a golden river. He watched as her form began to glow, radiating heat and light into the cold reaches of space, filling the void like a blazing, shimmering sun. The forest maiden closed her fingers, as if squeezing, lifted her hand slightly, and he felt a warmth begin to rise from the center of his body, up through the sternum, throat and into his mouth. He watched with wide eyes as a bright light, a tiny orb of dazzling beauty, floated out of his parted lips and toward the glorious woman looking like some dread deity against the stars. She opened her other hand and it came to rest in the palm, before sinking into her own flesh. The elf stared at her with dead eyes and with a casual wave, his body was flung backwards into the portal.

"You go home." She whispered and closed the portal. "And stay there."

* * *

"My gods…" Regis gasped and they all looked at him.

Root choked and gagged, smelling the foul incense and she felt her body change. With a roar, the brown furred werewolf woke and Roche and Geralt both leapt back as ferocious jaws snapped toward them. Regis held her arms down as she thrashed, pulling the vampire off the bed, trying to run. However, the Witcher was fast and swept her legs out from beneath her, landing the ulfhedinn on the stone floor of the bedroom. He then rolled, locked her head under his arm and held the jaws shut.

"Come on, Root!" he said. "Hold onto her, Regis! Dandelion, what in the world are you doing?!"

Dandelion stood tall, straightened his feathered cap and fuchsia colored vest. He then took a deep breath, mastered his fear…and began to sing.

"Dearme, little one, as the evening star rises in the sky. All the earth has flown to sleep, it's time to say good night. Farewell the little rivers, that sing you off to rest. For the forest knows that nighttime is for sleeping best…"

The werewolf paused, her green eyes looking up at the dark haired poet standing fearlessly in front of the fireplace; his hands raised, his eyes closed, giving himself completely to the song; the song he'd written for her.

"Sleep now, little one, as the birds have gone to dream. Hear the sleepy sound of trilling lazy streams."

Vernon poured water on the incense, dousing the charcoal and thus stopping the powerful herbs from affecting her further. He then pushed open one of the windows, letting the vile stink out of the room.

"Dearme, little dreamer, close your eyes and sleep, for the forest protects you always, love, forever it shall you keep. Forever it shall you keep."

Root sighed as the beast form melted away. Regis relaxed his grip and Geralt sat facing her, holding his hand to her cheek.

"Root?" he said quietly, searching her eyes.

"Geralt." She said, blinking slowly and turned. "Regis."

"We're here, my dear. Are you…are you aware of what happened?" Regis asked.

She nodded and slowly raised her hand, turned it and looked at the palm.

"You took his very soul." The vampire said softly. "Gods above, Root, I had no idea…"

Everyone was silent and stared at the wild woman as she got to her feet, helped by Emiel Regis and the White Wolf.

"What?" Geralt asked. "You did what?"

Root looked up into Gwynbleidd's golden eyes. Her lip quivered and her green eyes shimmered, and then she began to cry, leaning into Regis' chest.

* * *

King Eredin Breacc Glas, Lord of Nightmares, stared at the lifeless body of the Navigator. He knelt beside the long time companion and general, slipping the helm from the the elf's head. The vacant eyes of the powerful aen elle were filled with fear and the leader of the Red Riders knew that the last moments of his life had frightened the powerful mage beyond anything he had ever experienced. A host of elves came and surrounded their king, and began to sing a funeral dirge for the lost soul of one of their own. A haunting melody that rose to the great alder tree tops, their leaves shivering in the sunlit forest.

"No manner of beast, not even an ancient dragon, frightened you like this, old friend." Eredin spoke in a soft, whispered tone, sweeping his hand over the mages' eyes, closing them forever. "Yet a fragile, ignorant savage living in a shack her whole life destroyed your very being and stole your power."

"My king?" Ge'els asked and Eredin turned his head toward the voice. "What will we do? We cannot traverse the worlds without him."

Eredin stood and looked at his people, seeing a great gathering of the Alder folk, all wanting to see the body of the fallen general. Their song filled his heart with sadness and anger. Yet he knew the truth. He reached up and unclasped the buckles holding the ribcage breastplate to his chest, and let it fall with a loud crash. Some of the elves began to weep, while more joined in the song that had become not just a dirge for Caranthir, but for them all. The king then unlatched the greaves and gauntlets, and they too joined the growing heap of armor at his feet. Lastly, he took off the dread skull helm, saving only the iron crown, and let it fall.

The Wild Hunt had been defeated.


	73. Chapter 73

Chapter 73

* * *

"What in Melitele's name is going on up here?" Vesemir said, and they all turned to see the headmaster standing at the top of the stairs.

There stood a naked and sobbing Root, held in the arms of a middle-aged looking man with bushy, silvery hair and dark eyes, with a shirtless Geralt standing beside them. Looking on was a man Ves had pegged as some sort of merc or other professional soldier, and next to him the biggest flirt and loudest mouth in the northern realms.

"Just a bad dream is all, Master Vesemir." Dandelion said, nudging the vampire, handing a blanket to Regis so he could cover Root. "Nothing to worry about."

"I know what I heard. She shifted." The old witcher said, looking at each of them.

"That happens when she gets upset sometimes." Vernon answered. "It's why we all came up; wouldn't want her to go off running in the halls."

Vesemir paused and looked at Geralt who nodded.

"Yes, well, fine. There is some dessert downstairs. That Valonna makes the best black forest cake I have ever had. I'm sure a little late night snack never hurt in the case of a nightmare." Ves said and headed down with a grumble, sounding more like an old grandfather and less like the battle-hardned witcher.

"Root." Regis said softly, holding her. "You had to. He would have taken you away from us, my love. It is all right; we will figure this out too. No, none of us is afraid of you, darling. You would never harm any of us, we know that."

Geralt of Rivia stood silently for a long time, gazing at the woman he had once captured as part of a witchers' contract. A woman he had come to love fiercely and passionately. A woman he would bleed for. A woman he would die for. He knew. Geralt had wondered, pondered, for many long nights why he felt so strongly for the wild woman of the woods. It was not for any action she had done for him per se. If anything, the Witcher had spent most of his time defending her from others. And in that moment he knew why; because Root accepted him; all of him, for who he was, without any reservations. In addition, the Witcher knew then that such was also the reason why Vernon, Regis and Dandelion loved her too, each in their own way.

All of them were men who were off the beaten track from the rest of the world. A witcher; mutant, sterile, master assassin and seeker of monsters that others fainted at the sight of, and a man who held his own counsel on a host of issues, trusting himself over any supposed authority. A vampire; one of the most dreaded monsters known to humankind, an outcast from society because his natural traits would betray him, shadowless, eyeshine and branded by misinformation that insisted he fed on helpless victims in the night. A lone soldier; ousted from his country, kingless, a once commander of elite men and women now branded a term both romanticized and demonized…rogue; dangerous, marauder, betrayer, treasonous. And the flirt; womanizer, seducer of the innocent, blasphemer, sinner, predator…whore. Root did not care about any of those things; never judged them for their views, always wanted to know more, and loved them all so much even as she saw herself as unworthy of their affection. Geralt could relate to that too, and his heart swelled with love, but her crying brought him out of his reverie.

"I don't want to sleep anymore, Regis." She said and he hugged her. "I don't want to see them again. Can you make it so I never sleep?"

"You won't, Root. See them again, that is." Geralt replied, walking up and laying his hand on her shoulder. "I don't know about the rest."

She sniffed and looked up at the White Wolf. Regis wiped her nose with a handkerchief, while Vernon and Dandelion stood nearby.

"You took Caranthir's soul, Root." Geralt said, gently squeezing her shoulder. "You took his power. The Hunt cannot traverse the worlds without him opening the way. Do you have any idea how many countless beings you've saved by defeating him?"

"And not just in our world and time, my dear, but all worlds; all times." Regis explained. "The Time Mage was not bound to our plane and timeline. I can hardly believe this has happened and yet I saw it through your eyes."

"I…I never wanted to be a hero though." She said quietly, wiping her eyes. "I'm just an ignorant woman from the woods."

"Believe me, Root." Roche said with a smirk. "No one would've ever thought you'd be a hero. Besides, the truest heroes never want to be as such."

"Listen, take some credit, men." Dandelion said. "You all helped her grow in so many ways. Geralt, you saved her from that Falithe fella. And Regis, no one really understands how you know the things you do about Root but without you, she probably never would've learned to control her powers. Vernon you got us out of that sticky spot in the palace, what with your skulking around the secret passageways like a blue striped weasel. And then you show up with supplies from Foltest and a small group of soldiers just when we needed it. Root, you may have defeated Caranthir, but I know I don't need to tell you that you didn't do it alone. Not really."

"Let's not forget about you. What about you, Dandelion?" Emiel Regis asked. "What has the master musician our our merry band done to help bring this about?"

Root looked over at the handsome man, the poet that was her best friend, like the brother she never had. She remembered how his song had brought her out of the rage and it cheered her heart to think on it, even as tears still stained her cheeks.

"He often reminded me of the most important thing." Root said, nestling against the vampires' strong body. "Dandelion reminded me of where home is. Home is not a place. It's where the love is."

"Aww, well, hey…ahem, got something in my eye." The poet said, clearing his throat. "I'm going to head down and see about this cake Vesemir mentioned. Don't worry, Roo, I'll save you a piece."

The woman stood in the Witchers' bedroom with her three husbands, all of whom waited patiently and quietly for her to calm down. Vernon picked up the pillows that had been dragged to the floor and Geralt shook out the black velvet comforter, tossed it over the large bed and folded down the sheets and covers.

"You really don't want to sleep anymore, Root?" Roche asked and she adamantly nodded.

"Is that possible, Regis?" Geralt asked, humoring the forest maiden who he knew was exhausted, confused and scared of her own power.

"Of course it is, Geralt." He replied with a wink that Root did not see. "Yes, of course, my dear. No, I won't do that to you."

"Do you realize you answer questions that we don't hear?" Vernon asked, righting one of the fallen chairs. "Is that because she thinks them to you, or because you just read her thoughts and anticipate them?"

"Both." The vampire said with an apologetic grin. "And I'm sorry if that is frustrating. She often thinks faster than she speaks so, it is easier to just reply rather than explain. Hm? Yes, I did finish it. Well, I don't know if he would or not but I wager he would."

"You just did it again." Geralt said with a smirk, lighting some of the candles with a snap of his fingers and the igni sign.

Regis rolled his eyes. "Yes, well it's not like you can't figure out what is being talked about in such a one-sided fashion. No, you ask him, Root. That's between you and him."

Roche paused and looked over to the woman with puffy, red eyes swollen from crying.

"I know what you're thinking, my forest queen." Roche said. "You don't want me to use that lovely liquid in the small clear vial anymore do you? And here I asked our master herbalist to make it extra strong for you. Are you sure?"

Hearing that, Root shyly looked up into Regis' dark eyes and she could not help but turn a little bit pink. Vernon laughed quietly and Geralt shook his head.

"We go from never wanting to sleep again to…"

"Regis!" Root gasped and covered his mouth.

Vernon's blue eyes were dark and playfully shadowed as he approached, giving Regis a nod.

"To what, lady?" he asked quietly. "Shall I force it from you?"

"Roche, be kind." Emiel said lightly, but Root's toes curled and she averted her gaze as the vampire held her securely. "Still a little fragile at the moment."

"I understand." Vernon said and kissed her forehead. "Very well, lady. If you don't wish to sleep, what shall we do?"

"Have a drink, that's what." Geralt said. "The end of the Wild Hunt is definitely something to celebrate. Let's go down and grab a keg from the cellar and drink until it's gone."

"Splendid idea, Geralt!" Regis said, but Root clung to him and shook her head, not wanting to let him go. "All right then. You two get to fetch the alcohol while I stay here."

Root's two other mates left, leaving her and Regis together. The vampire sighed and held her to his chest. The forest maiden was quiet, reflecting on her thoughts, and did not want to be alone.

"That was very brave of you to face down Caranthir, my dear Root. And to have pierced through the illusion of this Ge'els person was, as I understand from Geralt, no easy feat either. You may not think of yourself as a hero, and the people you saved will never know of you. However, you did a wonderful thing today. Many worlds have reason to celebrate, yet they will not, since they do not know. So we should celebrate for them don't you think?" Regis said softly, tracing the curve of her ear.

"Do you think he spoke truly? Did he know my mother?" Root asked.

"He most likely did. Remember, your parents lived in that world for a time. But he knew you'd have few details about the exact circumstances of their service and used that against you. Combined with the malleable nature of the dream state, he wove quite a convincing world for you to occupy. I must give credit where it's due, he is indeed a master illusionist. It is a good thing our Geralt knew how to force a shift and reverse a binding act to another plane. Or we'd have lost you." He answered.

"You would've come for me." Root replied confidently. "I know."

"You're right. Neither time nor space could ever keep me from you, blood of my blood. I would have found the way. Moreover, know this, my precious Root. Caranthir, wherever he may be, should count himself fortunate to have died by _your_ hand."

Root looked up into the vampires' dark eyes and beheld once again the power that could radiate from Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy. Power to command the dead; power to break curses; and the power to heal the tiniest cuts or biggest bruises both inside and out. He smiled at her, letting her see his teeth and she kissed him, unafraid of what he was, accepting him, all of him.

"We should indeed celebrate." Root said quietly and tilted her head slightly.

Regis kissed the soft flesh of her neck and then nibbled her ear, making her blush and giggle.

"There is the laugh I love so much." He said softly. "I thank you, my dear. However, I think one drink every five hundred years or so will have to do. I would offer you my blood to drink but we know what would happen if you consumed it, and you don't wish that; although you will need to feed again soon. Ah and here comes your other mates and Dandelion with the drink. Excellent! Can you manage here just a moment while I help them? No? Very well."

Root still did not want to leave Regis' embrace so he simply nodded when the others came in the room, set the keg down, tapped it and started filling steins.

"So we came up with a game to play, Root." Dandelion said, passing Regis a mug. "Here you go my friend. Yeah, Roche set up that table right next to the little one, that'll be better."

"Oh?" Root replied, passing on a frothing mug of home-brewed beer from the cellar of the Wolf School. "What game is that?"

"With every hand of Barrel we play, we each have to call it if you're going to fall asleep by the end of that hand or stay awake. If you're awake, the ones who said you'd be asleep have to drink a shot. If you're asleep, the others have to drink."

The forest maiden shook her head.

"Well, I can tell you this, gentleman. If you wish to get wildly drunk, say I will be asleep. Because I have made up my mind, I am not sleeping. No more." Root said, crossing her arms.

The men all looked at each other with knowing eyes.

"I know what you're all thinking." Root continued, raising her voice a tiny bit and stamping one foot decisively.

Behind her, Regis was grinning and doing his very best to not chortle at the woman's attempt to look serious. He slid a finger over his lips to hide his smirk.

"You think there's no way I can do it. How easy it is for me to…to…you know what. Well, Regis doesn't sleep so I don't have to either."

"How long have you gone without sleep before, Root?" Geralt asked, seating himself at the table, shuffling the deck of richly illustrated cards.

She paused and remembered when the Eternal Fire attacked them. How she and Dandelion, Valonna and the kids had to flee, and the many hours she'd gone without so much as a nap or moment to rest her eyes. It had only been a day and half, two at most, and at the end of it, Root, like most people, was hardly able to stand or articulate a sentence.

"I don't know, maybe a few days or so…maybe. That…that doesn't matter, Geralt!" she said, stomping her foot again.

"All right, all right." The Witcher said. "You don't want to; you don't have to. Enough said. Come on then, boys, ante up. Root, are you going to play?"

"My dear?" Regis said softly and Root turned to him. "You'll erm…need to release me so I can join them. That is, if you feel safe enough."

"Oh, wait. I almost forgot." Geralt said and walked over, sliding the wolf pendant from his neck. "Remember what this does?"

The Witcher slipped the chain over the woman's head and the silver pendant rested just above the mounds of her breasts.

"It…it protects my dreams from the Hunt right?" she asked, holding it.

Geralt nodded. "Yes. Reminds me too, I'll find one for you to wear; although you'll need to keep it under your shirt. If Ves sees it…"

"I'll only wear it when I go to bed." She said. "I mean…erm…when I…"

"Wear it whenever you like." Geralt said, diverting her attention away from the idea of bed. "Come on. Let's get this celebration started."

"OK, first round. Everyone call it." Dandelion said. "I say asleep. First hand."

"Same." Everyone else said in unison, to which Root rolled her eyes.

"You lot have no confidence in me." She pouted, sitting next to her beloved Regis.

"Um, Root, did you want to maybe get dressed?" the poet asked. "Vernon, get that window would you? The incense stink is long gone and it's chilly in here."

"On the contrary, my dear, we have every confidence in your growing abilities and your mastery of them. However, we all know how you're erm…wired, shall we say? It's not your fault, Root." Emiel said, opening the round by laying a Temerian infantryman.

"You really think you can never sleep again, wife?" Vernon asked, sitting at the table, handing Root one of the blankets from the trunk at the foot of the bed. "D, hand me that pipe. Emiel do you have the smoke? Thank you, my good sir. I'll see that man of the lillies with a, well look at that, a werewolf."

Root wrapped herself in the blanket and looked over Geralt's shoulder at his hand, pausing to nuzzle his long white hair, loving how he always seemed to smell of leather and campfire smoke.

"I know I can." She said, looking over at Vernon. "Not even your elixir could bring it about. Just as I decided not to feed from anyone but Regis, unless they invite me of course, I can decide not to sleep. And I have."

Roche's pale blue eyes glistened as he lit the pipe, and exhaled sweet, spice-scented smoke.

"Oh? Shall we put that to the test?" he replied, laying a card and sipping his beer. "Damn it's a shame we don't have more of that henbane stuff."

"Not to worry." Regis said, playing a Kaedweni hero of the Dun Banner. "Master Vesemir has lent me use of some alembics and I've already converted them to stills. Brewing up a batch of moonshine at the moment; I can make a henbane beer next."

"But Root," Dandelion said, finishing his first pint. "What if one of us invites you? What then?"

Root sat quietly, stuck in her own logic, searching for a reply.

"Aha! Gotcha!" the poet said with a wink and a smile. "So guys, all you have to do is invi…"

"No, D!" she exclaimed with a bright pink flush to her cheeks.

Geralt quieted her with a kiss and squeezed her thigh gently under the table.

"All right, guys, you heard the lady. She doesn't want to." Wolf said, playing the card that bore his own likeness.

"They made a Barrel card of you, Gwynbleidd?" Root inquired, admiring the image of a younger Geralt of Rivia running alongside a fire-breathing dragon.

He nodded. "Legendary in my own time remember? Besides, there was a time when much of the world thought I was dead. They probably made this card then. It was entertaining when I showed up at an inn one dark and stormy night, played a round with the locals, and won this card off them. The looks on their faces, when I drew back my hood and they realized they'd lost to the man on the card, were priceless."

"One dark and stormy night, eh, Wolf?" Roche said with a raised eyebrow. "Shit, you're starting sound like the music man over there who's already half in the bag. You lightweight!"

The company played on into the early morning hours, and as she'd promised and to their great surprise, Root did not fall asleep; which meant all of them were very drunk when the sun began to rise over the great mountains that ringed the valley. With the first keg gone, and a second half as much, the Witcher finally rose and stretched, giving Dandelion a shove.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going…" the poet said and hugged the forest maiden. "Nighters, Roo."

"Nigh nigh, D." she replied with an enormous yawn and dark eyes. "I mean…morning…"

Geralt picked her up and with the blanket tucked around her body, laid her in bed.

"No, no, I don't…"

"It's fine. You don't have to. I just want you to rest next to me while I catch some winks." The hunter said, unbuckling his pants. "Regis? Roche?"

"Gorgeous as you are, Wolf, I'm not cuddling up to you." Roche said with a smirk, steadying himself on a chair.

"Yes, I'm coming." The vampire said, tossing his jacket and shirt on the trunk.

Root looked up into the commanders' blue eyes and gave him a beautiful if tired smile.

"Please, Vernon?" she asked softly.

Geralt and Regis both looked at the Viziman, and then crawled into the bed, each on either side of Root. He sighed.

"The things I do for you." He replied quietly. "Don't kick me, guys."

Roche lay at the foot of the bed, and Regis tossed him one of the spare pillows while Root handed him her blanket, snuggling up next to Geralt's warmth with Regis resting against her back. The White Wolf held her hand, the fingers doing their usual fidget and curling against his chest.

"Still not wanting to sleep?" Roche asked from the foot of the bed. "Because bloody hell I'm exhausted. You'll have to watch over us then, Root."

They all lay quietly as the first light of dawn painted the sky. Soon Root heard the soft snores of her witcher and commander, so she rolled over and met the dark gaze of the vampire. Emiel Regis knew her thoughts, knew she was beyond tired, but fighting with every ounce of strength within her to not fall asleep. She was still afraid.

"My most precious love…" Regis said softly, stroking her cheek. "They can no longer enter this world. I will not force you, not this time, but you should rest. We have so much to explore and learn concerning your power. You are radiant, Root Selithlene. A glorious golden star clothed in an earthen vessel. Maybe your internal radiance doesn't need to sleep, but your earthly body does."

"But you don't." She said.

"I do rest. I just don't sleep. Not like how you think of it. You know this, my dear. You too will one day rest in that profound trance state, as I do at times. But for now, I think a wise woman should choose sleep over fear."

Nevertheless, she shook her head so he only smiled and nodded.

"As you wish." Regis said and closed his eyes, slipping into a meditative state.


	74. Chapter 74

Chapter 74

* * *

The dawn melted into morning, and still the forest maiden refused to surrender to sleep. She lay quietly, absorbed in admiring the resting forms of her mates for a while, but eventually she needed to get up and walk around to keep herself awake. With as much ease as she could manage, Root climbed over the hunter, covered his strong shoulder after kissing the scarred skin, and padded quietly over to the dresser. She slid on one of Geralt's cotton shirts, a pair of doeskin pants and made her way down the stairwell and out into the hallway.

"Isn't it great how she thinks she can actually slip past two veteran warriors and a vampire who can read her thoughts?" Roche muttered, rolling over.

"No harm in letting her thinks so." Regis said quietly, with an amused grin. "It is adorable though."

"Zip it. I'm still trying to sleep." Geralt grumbled.

* * *

Peeking around the corner, she saw that the kitchen was empty, so Root tip toed in and began preparing the usual big breakfast for the keep.

"I'm going to need some of that coffee." She whispered and yawned. "A lot of coffee."

When the spread of thick cut maple bacon, pork sausages, scrambled eggs, fry bread, butter and syrup had been laid out, and Root could hear the voices of the other residents making their way toward the delicious aroma, she poured herself a cup of the dark brew, grabbed a piece of the cake Vesemir had mentioned, and quickly ran back down the hall and up the stairs to the lower bedroom of her mates.

"Whew." She said, setting the treats on the table near the fireplace.

Root added a few heavy logs to the grate, tucked some dried twigs under for kindling, and set it ablaze with a few well-placed long matches.

"Boy, these would've been handy in the old shack." She muttered, recalling the tiny house in the Temerian woodlands.

Woods that were now under the control of one Emhyr var Emreis, the White Flame, as Geralt had called him. Root, not even knowing the emperor, disliked him because he was an enemy to her beloved Vernon Roche. With a quiet growl, she sipped her coffee and nibbled on the soft cake frosted with dark chocolate and cherries that had been soaked in brandy.

"By the Green Lord, Valonna does indeed make a fine dessert." She said, tucking a sweet cherry into her mouth. "I wonder what kind of books these witchers read."

The forest maiden grabbed her coffee cup and browsed the large bookshelves filled with tomes whose covers were ancient and well-used.

"No collectible books are these." She said, running her fingers along the cracked spines. "Good. Books are meant to be read. Hmmm, what's this?"

She pulled from the shelf a large tome with a worn binding and cover that had once been dark red. A beautiful gold velvet ribbon, although tattered and threadbare, marked one of the sections. Root smiled and wandered back to the chair by the fireplace.

 _No one knows from whence came the witchers' ability to use Signs. Magic, it had long been said, was the province of those born with a propensity for it. And witchers, being mutants, were thought to have forsaken the use of magic, even if they had been one of those born to use it. Yet it began to be observed that when hunting monsters witchers would indeed employ tactics that, to the observer, seemed to be magical. Sometimes a hunter would throw their enemies back without touching them, other times he would bind a creature to the spot. Sometimes fire would fly from the hands of the beast slayers, making them especially desired to fight drowners and drowned dead. But perhaps one of the most dreaded signs used by the witchers is the one they call Axii. Compared to Aard, Yrden and Igni, Axii was something that would affect, not a creatures' body but their mind; and not just beasts and monsters, but men, aen seidhe and others too. When this sign was discovered, the reputation of the witcher as a seducer and assassin came about. Surely, it was believed, such a sign would only be used for wickedness; to get the pure maiden into their bed, to charm the servant so they could slit the throat of the king, or perhaps just sway the inn keeper into letting them stay the night free of charge. Witchers came to be viewed with more suspician than ever before and many societies became outright hostile to them, even as they threw them bags of coin to rid their graveyards of ghouls. The hypocrisy of those who both hated the witchers and desired their services knew few boundaries. While they paid them, they would spit in their faces._

Root growled absently, angry and frustrated over how people have treated her handsome Geralt and other witchers. She shoved another morsel of cake into her mouth, licked her fingers, and turned the page.

 _But of course Axii has other applications that are very benevolent. It can calm the mounts of the witchers as they traverse the wilds, often beset by animals or monsters along the way. A skittish horse, chomping their bit with rolling eyes and neighing in fear will reveal a hunter's position. The sign of axii allows the rider a measure of control that is not possible with spur, whip or bridle. With a simple gesture, a horse relaxes under the hand of the witcher, becomes docile and trusting once again, and the hunt can continue. In some cases, witchers have been known to lend their incredible knowledge of herbs to those in need. If a person is, for example, in extreme pain, the axii sign can provide several moments of relief so that a medicinal may be administered without risking harm to either the patient or the sign user. And when a witchers' potion is too strong for a human to ingest, axii can send someone off to a deep sleep, guided by the suggestion of the witcher_.

The forest maiden softly bit her lip and couldn't help but blush. She gazed into the embers of the fire, almost seeing Geralt's beautiful, strange eyes looking back at her.

"Still awake I see." Said the soft voice of Emiel Regis as his hands came around and rubbed her shoulders.

"Mmm, good morning, my love. Breakfast is ready." She said as his fingers worked their way up her neck, massaging around the base of the skull, making her groan.

"Your other mates are still very much passed out. It has only been a few hours. I am sure the others will save some. Did you eat?" Regis asked, and she shook her head. "Ah, I see. Then why don't you come over to Vernon's bed and have a feed, yes?"

"But…but that will…"

"Root, what can I say to calm you?" Emiel said, walking around to look at her sweet face. "The Hunt is no more. Only Eredin remains and if he could enter this world of his own accord, he would have done it. Do you not think he desires revenge for both Caranthir and Imlerith? The cold pathways between the worlds are safe because of you. If anyone deserves to get a good night's sleep, it is you. Now come. Whether you sleep or not is your choice, but you must feed."

The woman rose and walked over to Roche's bed and sat on the edge while Regis rolled up his sleeve and noted her glance to the bared skin and slight parting of her lips.

"Ah, you see; almost too long again. It's been stressful though." He said, and sitting next to her, he bit the flesh and pressed it to her waiting, anxious lips.

Root drew deeply, holding his wrist and closed her eyes. She heard the strong heartbeat, and the rush of the red liquor as it passed into her body, filling her with relief, relaxing her thoughts and mind into a soft haze. She began to drift and so forced her eyelids open, but they stubbornly refused to comply, falling down over her green orbs in seconds. She stopped feeding, and turned her head away, licking her lips.

"No, Root. You need more than that." Regis said softly, pressing it to her mouth. "Come on."

The forest maiden could not resist the scent of her sires' blood and drank deeply. When at last she could consume no more, Regis stroked the side of her face with his fingers and admired her.

"Come on, Root. You can go to sleep. It's safe, my dear." He said softly, but careful not to charm her, as that would upset her at that time.

"No…" she said and shook her head, blinking.

"All right then." He said patiently. "Then come. I believe Master Vesemir is going to begin class shortly. You mentioned wanting to attend school, yes?"

She brightened and stood up, but stumbled a bit so Regis held her. The old vampire knew she was being stubborn. Yet he also knew it was out of fear. Lacing her arm in his, he walked her downstairs.


	75. Chapter 75

Chapter 75

* * *

In the grand library, the old headmaster stood at the head of a group of young elven children who were all seated at small desks with hinged tops that opened up to a compartment where their books and parchment could be held. His soft grey hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he paced in front of the class.

"Good morning, class." Spoke the grizzled old warrior.

"Good morning, Master Vesemir." They all replied as one.

"Today we shall be reviewing our last lesson on monsters and their remains. As you will all recall, the remains of many beings are useful to men, aen seidhe, dwarves, gnomes and others. As with the remains of animals that we enjoy for food, like deer, chickens, cows, goats and others, monster remains can nourish us, strengthen us and sometimes poison us. Can anyone tell me why witchers can ingest potions and resist the toxins?"

A young lad raised his hand, his almond colored eyes shining.

"Because they've undergone the Trials, Master."

Ves nodded. "Very good, Siri. Can you elaborate?"

Siri rose and spoke in a clear voice.

"The Trial of the Grasses was the first of the alchemical procedures that young witchers-to-be had to endure. Many did not survive, as the ingestion of the potion that would mutate their bodies killed them. Only three out of every ten candidates would make it to the second trial."

"Well done, lad. And that, my young ones, is why the Trial of the Grasses was done away with years ago. While we still brew the potion required for the trial, for traditions' sake, it remains unused." He explained.

"But, Master," spoke a young elven woman with rich, glossy black hair and violet eyes. "Wouldn't' that mean that new witchers would be weaker than those who came before them? And wouldn't that mean they'd be in more danger from the monsters they'd face?"

"You deduct rightly, Lilaca." Vesemir replied with a nod. "Those whose bodies have not undergone mutation are indeed weaker, slower, and not as resistant to toxicity as those who have. But having said that, those brave souls who still take up the witchers' profession are mighty indeed. In some ways, they work harder, train longer and push themselves to match those whose bodies have changed. Now, if you will all take out a fresh piece of parchment and a quill, I would like you all to copy…ah. Class, please greet our guests."

Root and Regis stood in the doorway to the great library as the students turned to see who had arrived.

"I'm sure they need no introduction." Ves said, nodding to Regis.

"Good morning, Master Regis and Lady Root." The students replied.

"Bleidd!" Cera squealed, leaping from her desk and racing across the room.

The forest maiden scooped up the little elven girl, swung her around, and then gave her a big cuddle and nose nuzzle.

"Oh, bleidd, we missed you so much! You OK now? You no hurt more?" she said tenderly holding Root's cheek.

Root laughed, a beautiful sound that Regis had not heard in a long time and it cheered him to see her so happy. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle and no trace of sleepiness was in them then.

"Yes. I am well now, little one. Have you been minding your teacher? He is a wise old witcher who taught the great White Wolf himself. You listen and you'll be as wise as Gwynbleidd alright?" Root said, setting the child down.

"I will!" she said and quickly went back to her seat.

Vesemir couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt as she spoke so highly and kindly of him. Yet upon his first conversation with her, he had tried to force a shift. He cleared his throat and the class quieted and was attentive.

"Master Vesemir, would it be acceptable if Root joined your class this morning?" Regis asked.

The wizened witcher looked at the forest maiden, who stood quietly and somewhat shyly behind the man referred to as her primary husband. He had no idea why she would want to be in a class full of children, but he figured it couldn't hurt.

"Yes, I think that would be fine. Someone please share with her some parchment and a quill. We're learning about monster remains today." Ves said motioning to a desk near the front.

Root squeezed herself into the short little station meant for smaller legs and nodded her thanks when Siri shared his inkwell and supplies with her. Regis slipped out then and made his way down to the alchemy lab to work on his brews.

"Now I'd like you all to open your bestiaries to the section on harpies. Read the chapter, and then copy down what remains can be gleaned from them and what they're useful for." He said.

The library was quiet as the children, and Root, all read the chapter about the winged creatures known as harpies, and their more vicious and dangerous counterparts the erynias. The forest maiden was fascinated by the lore found in the old weathered textbook and dearly hoped she would find a copy later in one of the bedrooms.

 _Harpies and all their cousins are foul beings who inhabit our world. Their stink alone makes them worth avoiding if you can. However, if you cannot, and need to venture into the high vales and rocky crests where they make their nests and colonies, be careful. While the Igni sign is a quick and very effective way to knock a harpy out of the sky, you do risk ruining the feathers, which are useful for making various potions, decoctions and oils. If you must, save your life, and ignite them. Otherwise, it is more useful to lure the harpy to your position and strike it quickly with a silver sword._

 _Harpies love rotten, and I do mean rotten, flesh. Procure a carcass from the butcher, place it into a skin bag, then in a leather sack, and let it stink to the highest realms. When ready, set the bait near to a known area, open the bags, hide, and wait. Know that these beasts of the sky have sharp eyes as well as claws and will spot you if you move about in the brush, so patience is the key. When they land to investigate the meal, hit them in the wing joint with your crossbow, ensuring they cannot take off. When so grounded, dispatch them quickly, as their cries will raise an alarm and bring others to their aid. All parts of the harpy are useful to alchemy and other forms of research, but important to witchers are the feathers, talons and eggs._

Root copied down the essential information and rubbed her eyes, feeling very warm and sleepy in the quiet room. Vesemir looked on the younger woman and saw the signs of someone who was shattered. He had seen many a witcher go without sleep several days, and even with their training, it was difficult. Of course, he did not know why the werewolf was so exhausted so when Geralt poked his head in, Ves stepped out into the hallway to have a word. The White Wolf grinned seeing the grown woman sitting in a room full of kids, busily copying down the lesson, oblivious to his presence. It reminded him of days long ago, almost a hundred years, when he would have been seated at one such desk, quill in hand, trying not to focus too much on the upcoming trial.

"Wolf." Ves said quietly, giving his best student a nod. "Long night?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Geralt replied, leaning on the stone wall. "You're fine with her being in there? Not thinking she's going to eat them all?"

"One little girl made it very clear to me this morning that I have nothing to worry about when it comes to them." The old witcher said with a nod to Cera.

Geralt laughed quietly. "Fair enough. And true."

"Geralt, she's absolutely exhausted you know. She's tolerating things well enough and seems happy. Nevertheless, I looked in her eyes. She is ready to collapse any moment. Is she not sleeping well in the keep?" Vesemir asked.

The White Wolf didn't know what he should share with his mentor and so was silent for a long time, gazing out the arched window in the long hall.

"That's not a simple question, Ves. Put as simply as I can, no. This last month or so has been very hard on her. Root is used to living in the wilds, roaming freely in her wolven form whenever she wanted to. She's had nights, to be sure, where everything was fine and she slept well. But…last night's…erm…"

"It wasn't a nightmare was it." The old one said quietly.

Geralt nodded. "Not exactly."

"It was the Hunt."

"Yeah."

"What happened?" Ves asked, glancing in to make sure the students were all still reading or copying.

The White Wolf explained why Eredin desired the daughter of Selithlene and Curamil before a very patient and quiet Vesemir, and before the old witcher could begin to complain about bringing the Wild Hunt down on their home…

"But Root defeated Caranthir." Geralt said in a hushed voice. "She saw through Ge'els illusion and she…"

The Witcher paused and looked over at his wife, the wild woman who hardly understood her own power, innocently spending her morning with a group of kids; so child-like herself, and yet a woman of nearly forty winters.

"She took his soul, Ves." Wolf said, still stunned to hear the words come from his mouth. "Regis told me that she not only took his soul, but stole his power to open the paths between worlds. So now Eredin is stuck, along with all the Alder folk, in their world. And without a plentiful supply of slave labor to maintain their economy, they will either have to adapt to a new way of living, or die out."

Vesemir was blown away by the revelation and did his best to maintain a calm, quiet demeanor. He crossed his arms and was silent and patient.

"The Time Mage lured her into their realm through a dream. One in which Ge'els then embellished with an illusion. Root is…very easily distracted so, it was not hard to get her to follow. However, she saw through it and, well I kind of told you the rest. But…"

"She's afraid to sleep now." The grand master said with a knowing nod.

"Yeah. And she thinks she can just will it and it is so."

"Maybe she can." Vesemir said. "Have you considered that?"

Geralt grinned and his golden eyes gleamed. "I know my Root, master. Right now, she wants nothing more than to sleep. But she won't let herself, because she's afraid. She doesn't believe, not fully, what has happened. I think…I think it scares her to think about what she's capable of."

"Well, she hides this fear very well if that is the case. I can tell she's tired, but I wouldn't have guessed she was nigh on petrified of closing her eyes. Have you thought of slipping her a little potion? Or why not use the somne sign on her? You know it, I taught you."

"I…I can't use signs on her that affect the mind. She's warded. As for potions, yes, I've considered that but I think she'd feel that was a major violation. At other times, she'd love it but…well…ah shit…"

"She'd love it, eh?" Ves said with a raised eyebrow. "What in the world do you men do with her? None of my business. Keep it to yourselves."

"Well, anyways, I think I have an idea that will help. Do you have the old tome in the reference section on the Wild Hunt? I think if I showed her in writing that they cannot traverse the worlds without Caranthir that she might relent. But before that I was going to venture outside the keep for a bit and let her have a run. That is…if…"

"I don't like the idea of an ulfhedinn wandering these woods, Wolf. What if the people of Kaedwen see her? Worse, what if other werewolves see and think to set up a pack here? Our hands will be forced to put them down." Vesemir said, noting the kids were getting antsy.

The Witcher nodded. "Yes, master. I understand."

"I have to get back. Just…take her down into the old smuggling tunnels. You know the ones. You boys were always hanging around down there, sneaking bottles of ale, thinking old Ves didn't know; plenty of space for her there. All right, you little foxes, settle down. Root, someone would like to see you in the hall." Vesemir said with a nod to the door.

The woman tucked the parchment and books into the desk, squeezed out and gave a courteous bow to the headmaster.

"Thank you for letting me join you, master. Good day." She said in a voice of grace and elegance that stunned the old man.

'Yes, well, anytime." He replied and coughed.

Root closed the door behind her, turned, and was swept into the Witcher's embrace, his mouth finding hers quickly, his hands gliding around her waist. His passion surprised her, but she surrendered quickly, her fingers curling into his milk white hair, giving herself over completely to his dominance. Reluctantly he left her lips and rested his forehead against hers.

"Good morning, my mate." He whispered, kissing her nose. "Feel like going for a run?"

Root looked up into his eyes, her green orbs filled with hope.

"You mean?"

He nodded. "Come on."

* * *

The werewolf barreled down the long tunnel at full speed, seeing the glow of the torches streak by as she ran, loving the feeling of the wind in her fur. The old tunnel system that ran beneath the keep was dwarf-made, wide, arched and reinforced with solid stone to last many lifetimes. Geralt supposed that Kaer Morhen had traits from many different cultures and peoples, with various groups making their mark on the place, depending on who occupied it at a given time. From the dwarven tunnels, to the sweeping vaulted ceilings favored by the elves, and the stained glass added by religious humans, it was almost fitting that the witchers of the Wolf School now occupied the keep, in order to leave their marks.

Root looped around a tall column of rock and charged back down the track, her legs throbbing, her paws thundering on the dirt, her breathing coming in gasps as her long bluish tongue lolled from the side of her jaw. But she cared not, for it felt so good to at last be able to stretch her legs and run. The Witcher saw her charging toward him, and when Root loped around his form, he took off again with her, keeping pace with the agile and swift ulfhedinn. He glanced over, met her green gaze and pushed out in front. She grumbled and pressed her body to go even faster, stretching her muzzle forward.

"Come on, monster! You have to be faster than me if you want to escape my blade!" Geralt said with a playful smirk.

A blur flew past them both just then, tossing Geralt's snow-white hair, causing witcher and monster to look ahead. There, seated on a boulder, was Emiel Regis, reclining with ease.

"Slow pokes." He said with a smile as they neared.

Root skidded to halt and sat on her back legs, panting heavily, while Geralt barely had broken a sweat.

"Show off." He muttered, but gave the vampire a friendly shove. "How you doing, Root? Better?"

The werewolf bobbed her head and rumbled a reply, scratching an itch with her back paw.

"Oh, hey guys. What are you all doing down here?" Roche asked, striding out of the darkness like a phantom.

"Letting Root have a bit of a run. The better question is, what are you doing down here?" Geralt asked.

"This place is riddled with secret passageways and tunnels. I've been exploring them over the last month. This one runs the whole length of the keep and then branches off into the north and south as well. I reckon the northern tunnel will take us out near the homestead in the mountains, eh?"

"You reckon rightly." the White Wolf replied. "The south tunnel connects to the mine and exits near the river, not too far from where we'd camped actually."

"Ah, thought so. What an amazing place this is, Wolf. You could hold off an army from this fortress." Vernon said, giving Root a rub behind the ear while leaning against her massive form.

"And it has." Geralt answered. "Well, we haven't. However, in history it has. Several legends say this old place became an empty ruin. Some even say it was mythical, never real. But those who know the way know the truth."

"Hm? Oh, well that sounds like a fun diversion indeed. Gentleman, what do you think?" Regis said, with both Geralt and Vernon giving him raised eyebrows. "Ah, yes. Forgive me. Root wants to play hunt the monster, in order to see if she can evade us. These tunnels are quite extensive and it sounds like a good way to spend some time. What say you?"

"But, Root, Regis can just read your thoughts. He'll know what you're up to almost instantly." Roche said. "Wolf and I don't stand a chance."

Root grumbled and licked her nose, giving them all the wolfish equivalent of, "Well, huh…"

"Then I shall play too, as a monster that is. I will help her. Cover any tracks, and try to divert you. Sound good, Root?" Emiel said with a veiled smile and she bobbed her lupine head excitedly.

 _And it will wear her out_. Geralt thought. _Might not need the book after all._

"All right, beast. Well, beasts is more like it. Off you go. Roche and I will be on your tail in, let us give them, ten minutes." Geralt said while he and the soldier walked in the opposite direction of the vampire and werewolf.

The mated group spent the afternoon enjoying each other's company, hunting the forest maiden as she prowled around the old dwarven tunnels with an ancient vampire. And while neither Geralt nor Roche ever saw so much as a speck of Regis' silver hair, they both had spotted the not so stealthy werewolf many times, but had decided to let her slink away as to not ruin the fun.

"She may be powerful, but Root sure isn't very good at hiding." Roche said quietly, seeing the large form curled up on top of a flat boulder in the distance.

"Nope." Geralt replied with a nod. "Not physically, nor in any other way. She's very much a what you see is what you get type of person. Which, I don't know about you, is very refreshing and something I like about her."

Vernon rolled his eyes. "Tell me about it. I may be a kingsman, but sometimes I hated playing the game at court. I mean, don't get me wrong, I thought she was a bit touched when I first met her. But now that I understand her life story more, I adore her quirks and transparent mannerisms."

"Wait…" Geralt said, motioning toward Roche. "What is…"

A rumble in the darkness behind them made both men turn and see a pair of glowing green eyes. Root roared and leapt forward, tackling the Witcher to the ground, her teeth inches from his neck.

"You clever girl! Regis!" Geralt said with a laugh and shoved her away.

Root bounced around in circles like a jubilant puppy as the vampire strolled up, carrying an old bear skin over his arm.

"This sure came in handy. There is quite the treasure trove of items in these old rooms, Geralt. I'd very much like to sort through them if that's all right." Emiel said, laughing as Root licked Vernon's face and the soldier wiped saliva from his brow.

"Oh, you are kidding me. That's it. Come here, Root!" Roche said and tore after the fleeing werewolf.


	76. Chapter 76

Chapter 76

* * *

As night fell, the Witchers' company would find themselves in the spacious lower bedroom, with Dandelion regaling them all with the ballad he had been working on. The fire crackled pleasantly and the scent of beeswax filled the air as candles burned merrily, filling the room with soft light and wavering shadows. Root reclined against Regis' legs, wrapped in a blanket, as he sat in the high backed chair and Geralt and Vernon sat together at the table, each enjoying a stein of the freshly brewed mandrake moonshine.

The bard strummed the lute with masterful fingers, his voice rising and falling effortlessly to the highest falcetto, then to the deepest bass as he told the tale of their journey in song. Naturally, the poet embellished many parts and there were several stanzas that made the White Wolf roll his eyes. Yet such was his friend, and the ways of all bards. They all applauded politely as the music faded and Dandelion took his bow.

"You're too kind, friends. It still needs some work, but I thank you for letting me share it with you." He said humbly.

Root swatted at the little black specks that drifted into her vision and shook her head. Regis sighed and looked over to Roche and the White Wolf. The vampire knew he could not make her go to sleep. From her perspective, it would be as if he were placing her into harms' way. Yet every hour that went by, he could feel her emotions becoming more sensitive, and her thoughts more disjointed. She had gotten a bit of a second wind earlier, when they had all enjoyed a long game of hide-n-seek in the old tunnels beneath the keep, but that was now utterly spent and she was manifesting the signs of a person beginning to hallucinate.

There then came a soft knock on the door and Vesemir poked his head in, which made the werewolf squeal, leap to her feet and stumble awkwardly when the room spun around and she fell against Regis' strong body, his arms keeping her from falling to the floor. Ves closed the door and walked toward the couple, a large tome tucked under his arm.

"Gentleman." Vesemir said. "Good evening."

"Hey, Ves." Geralt said with a nod.

"Good evening, Master Witcher." Regis said. "Root, stop being silly; you did fine during class, now hush."

"Young lady?" he said softly, standing near her.

The forest maiden looked over at the old witcher and was immediately held captive by his golden eyes, like her Geralt's.

"I understand you could use a good bedtime story. Here you are then." He said and handed her the volume. "I've marked the page of a particularly great tale. I'd start with that one."

Ves gave them a sly wink when she closed her eyes and yawned deeply.

"But…I'm not going to bed." She said.

"Well, just enjoy as you will then. Good night." He said and left as quietly as he had come.

Root opened the steel-colored cloth cover and read the title page…

 **What We Know, Theorize and Believe about the Wild Hunt**

 _Collected from various sources including aen seidhe prophecies, witchers, wise women, mages, sorcerers and first-hand accounts._

Curious, she opened the book to the marked page and scanned the lines, pacing the room with the vampire trailing after her, as Root was still stumbling at times from extreme weariness. With a gasp, she turned her green eyes to Geralt, her mouth open in surprise. He only nodded silently and rose, walking over as she stood stunned by the record she'd just read.

"You…you rode with them?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "But…how? Why?"

"Someone very dear to me had been taken by them. And, as you well know, the Hunt is, well was, not above trade. So I offered myself to them in exchange for her. And they agreed." He explained in his softest voice.

"Your Yennefer.' Root replied and the Witcher nodded.

"How did you escape though?" she asked as Geralt marked the page, closed the book and took the tome from her.

"Yennefer's magic. However, the cost was high. I lost my memory for a time. Those were interesting years. It is a good thing I had friends who knew me and cared for me enough to help me get my memories back. However, more important is this, Root. When I was with them, I too traversed the worlds. I witnessed Caranthir open the pathways into the cold roads between realms, bringing ghostly galleons filled with skeletal warriors to the veils of other planes in order to invade them. Therefore, I know first-hand that Eredin himself had to wait for the Navigator to open the way. So, without Caranthir…"

"He…he can't…he can't come here anymore." She answered as her vision blurred.

"No. No, he can't." Geralt replied in a whisper, gently brushing his fingers across her cheek.

The relief Root felt as she finally let go of her struggle washed her body and mind a pleasant, soothing sensation.

"I…love…you all…so…"

"We know, darling. I have you. There now." The vampire said, scooping her up into his arms while Geralt leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"Nighters, Roo." The bard said with a soft laugh.

"Good night, my queen." Roche said with a nod.

"You go on up, Regis." Geralt said nodding toward the stairwell. "Find us later or I'll be up sometime."

Root's soft snore made them all smile and the vampire took her to the large bedchamber upstairs.

"Hey, Roche," the bard began. "Why do you call her your queen? I mean, ya know, if that's not too private a thing."

The Commander leaned back, finished his drink and set the stein on the table.

"Because that's part of who I am I suppose. I need a person, someone, or something to direct my passion and services to. And the language of royalty is all I know."

"Oh, so you don't want her to rule over you then, eh?" Geralt asked, tucking the old tome onto the bookshelf, shooting the soldier a smirk.

"Nope. Not my thing. She called me sir once though and…yeah. Damn hot. And so what about you, Dandelion? You ever going to have a go at a relationship with her?"

The bard smiled, glanced up at the ceiling, where up above he knew Root was resting, and then looked back at Vernon.

"I do have a relationship with her; just not that kind. Took Regis smacking me in the face with it but, I got it eventually." He answered.

"I think Regis likes smacking people in the face with what they don't know." Geralt replied. "But, that's part of his personality I suppose."

Upstairs, Emiel Regis had tucked the woman into bed and then tossed a few logs into the fireplace. The windows had been open earlier that day, since the warmer spring air was finally beginning to drift into the snowbound valley, so he closed them up now that night had fallen and the land had cooled. Extinguishing the candles with a pinch, he looked over as she stirred and opened her eyes, searching.

"I'm here, my love." He said quietly, coming to sit on the bed next to her. "I didn't think you'd wake. My goodness you fell asleep so quickly."

"I love you, Regis." She said, admiring how the firelight looked on the man's pale features.

"You woke to tell me that?" he said, trailing his fingers over her collarbone. "Thank you, my dearest. Now get some sleep, Root. You're beyond exhausted."

"Geralt's pendant…I want…it." she said, yawning hugely again.

"Is she awake?" Geralt said, coming up the stairs.

"Do you have your pendant?" Regis asked.

The White Wolf slipped off the medallion and stood by the bed's headboard, dangling it over her.

"Ah yes, I forgot." He said softly as Root reached for it. "You're being stubborn aren't you? You should be out cold. Do I need to get Roche in here to command you?"

Root smiled and hugged the pendant to her chest after slipping the chain over her head.

"No, my hunter." She said, closing her eyes. "I just…wanted your…pen..d…"

Emiel Regis stroked his fingers through her short brown hair, his dark eyes filled with love. The Witcher noted the look and he saw in it the same depth of devotion that he felt for his Yennefer.

"You know I don't really buy into the whole fate thing. But, I have to admit…you two were destined for each other." Geralt said quietly, listening to Root's snoring. "I knew the moment you and she embraced. Remember? When you made the elixer so she wouldn't change?"

The vampire nodded. "That was the first time another had hugged me in, oh my goodness, countless years. How could I forget? She is as dear to me as life itself, Geralt. She's frustrating at times, naïve and stubborn. And yet, who of us would ask her to be anything or anyone else? I feel as though every moment of my life prepared me to meet her, and thus take care of her. I would do anything for her. But I've blathered long enough. Forgive me, I know you dislike such talk."

Geralt shrugged. "I brought it up. You up for some Barrel?"

"Not tonight, old friend. She woke wanting your pendant, and she was searching for me when I wasn't by her side. I'm going to stay with her for a while and ensure she sleeps. There's no reason now for me not to intervene.

"Fair enough. Good night, Regis."

"Good night, Geralt."

And the werewolf, at last, slept.


	77. Chapter 77

Chapter 77

* * *

"You wished to see me, your Grace?" said Sir Ian Rutherford, after making the customary bow before the Imperator.

Emhyr var Emreis stood next to the desk with hands clasped behind his back and a small trunk on the ground before him. He looked the soldier up and down, measuring him with eyes that knew the worth of a warrior.

"I did. But first, how is your family?" Emhyr asked, his eyes veiled and voice even.

The man was surprised by the inquiry but did his best to mask it. Surely, the emperor had better things to concern himself with than over the livelihood of a middle-class farmer and his family.

"They are all in excellent health, your Grace. Thank you." Ian replied with a courteous nod.

"I'm glad to hear it. And I would like you to remember that. I'm sure you've not forgotten that it was my mercy that saved your wife and daughters from the noose." Emreis said looking at the man with hard, dark brown eyes.

Ian genuflected before the ruler of Nilfgaard, fist to chest, head lowered in reverence.

"No, Lordship. I recall it every day and give thanks. You are mercy incarnate."

"And you've no compunction about what you've done? No feelings of remorse for your countrymen that have died?" the emperor asked quietly.

Ian did not hesitate, for he knew that to do so would mean death. He had seen slow-to-respond men butchered before his very eyes. Ian had learned quickly how things worked in Nilfgaard.

"No, my Emperor. None. I am your servant." He said, keeping his eyes to the stone floor.

"Good. I need you to deliver this trunk to someone you know. A man you once served. You're a farmer by trade, yes?" Emreis asked as the man rose.

"I am, your Grace."

"But you ran orders between camps when you enlisted with Foltest's army, and other types of work?"

"I did. Fastest legs in Vizima. Maybe all of Teme…Nilf…um…"

"It would've been Temeria at the time, Sir Rutherford. You may speak of it."

"Thank you, my lord. Just saying I'm swift and would be honored to deliver your package." Ian replied.

"Then listen well. You have been trained, as all couriers of the realm have, to memorize entire volumes of information to be delivered verbatim to a target. So I trust you will note every word I say, as my message is quite short. You will ride to the keep in the Kaedweni mountains known as Kaer Mohren. Although you will fly no colors and dress as a commoner. There you will inquire after one Vernon Roche. If he is there, and we have reason to believe he is, you will deliver to him this trunk and it's contents saying this, "If you wish no further dishonor to come to the body of the once king Foltest, surrender yourself to Nilfgaardian forces. If you do not, the body of your lord shall be further subjected to the rudest and foulest public humiliations until you do. Failure to comply with this will only show that, despite the rumors, you care nothing for your compatriots bleeding on the battlefield and rotting in dungeons. A true soldier, a son of Temeria, will not stand for this. You are finished. Surrender or face the truth…you never truly served him. Not in life, nor now in death."

Sir Rutherford felt like throwing up but he hid any expression under a cool, calm exterior. All he could think about being the lovely faces of his wife and daughters, knowing it was for them that he lived the life he now did under the black and gold banners of Nilfgaard.

"And if he is not there, your Grace?" Ian replied calmly.

"Then the trail will have gone cold. Return." Emreis said.

"Yes, my Emperor. I'll make arrangements for transport and depart immediately." Sir Rutherford answered with a deep bow and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Sir Ian?" the Imperator said and clicked his fingers.

The door to the emperor's private chamber opened and two girls around ages eight and nine were shown out. Both wanted to run to their father, but the Chamberlain had instructed the young women about how to conduct themselves before the Imperator and what would happen if they failed. They both stood quietly with eyes obediently lowered. Ian's eyes widened but he quickly masked the reaction.

"Just in case seeing your old commander brought up any feelings of patriotism, your children will be staying here." Emreis said, waving the Chamberlain away, who took the girls back into the other room and shut the door.

"I swear to you, your Grace. I serve the Great Sun. I am a Nilfgaardian now. Foltest and Roche mean nothing to me." The man said with a voice filled with devotion.

The Imperator remained motionless, staring the man down with cold eyes.

"Yes, so you said while under the lash. And you are not a Nilfgaardian, Sir Rutherford, nor will you ever be. That is reserved for those born in that province. You are a servant of Nilfgaard, and thus a servant to me. Also do not think that it escaped my notice how quickly you turned allegiences. You say this Roche means nothing to you now, nor your once king. I am not a fool. You said those things to save your skin and your family."

Ian's face burned red with shame and his eyes filled with salty tears. Nevertheless, he held himself in check.

"A wise choice." Emreis said softly. "One I handsomely rewarded. This is your test, Sir Rutherford. I am giving you two weeks. If you do not return, I am sure you can work it out what will happen to your family. They will be examples of what happens to those who refuse to obey the White Flame. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly so, my Imperator." Sir Ian replied.

"Dismissed."


	78. Chapter 78

Chapter 78

* * *

Step, step, turn and whump!

Root's thighs ached from being smacked by the swinging log yet again. As the morning sun drifted over the stone walls of the training yard, she climbed back up onto the rail and set it in motion.

Step and turn, pirouette and step back, spin…the log swung like a great pendulum as the woman gave herself over to the battle trance that fell over her, and she danced. Heel and toe, step and turn, she thwacked the log with a wooden practice blade, sending small chips flying. Step, and spin, turn and back, leap and thwack, thwack! Pause and step, turn and thwack!

Gwynbleidd looked down from the balcony outside his bedroom and watched the woman gracefully run through some morning exercises. The sun was radiant and warm, golden like his eyes, and spring was on its way to the mountain pass at last. A good amount of snow still lay in the high vales and trails, so it would be some weeks yet before they could set out for the homestead that would be the elves' new home. He breathed deep, grateful for the warmth in the air. Movement down in the yard caught Geralt's keen eyes and he saw Eskel watching his mate. The very quiet and withdrawn Eskel had not spoken to Root once since they had arrived over a month ago, but nor had Lambert save for his singular visit to thank her for saving his, Geralt's, life. Vesemir, while allowing her to sit in his classes whenever she liked, also remained aloof from the forest maiden. None of them, it would seem, wanted to get too close. Geralt wondered if it was because they were struggling with the same sorts of thoughts that he did once upon a time.

"Well good." He muttered quietly, sipping his morning coffee. "That's a start."

Root was breathing hard and so ceased her exercise, doing a back flip from the rail onto the yard floor.

"You shouldn't practice alone you know." Came a voice from behind her.

Startled, she turned to see the scarred face of the man Dandelion had told her was named Eskel. He walked toward her and, not knowing his intentions, nor having ever seen him save for the day she'd raced into the courtyard in wolf form, she began to shake and a whine escaped her. The brawny man with a nasty scar was not displeased that his presence was scaring the shit out of her, but that wasn't his intention so he paused. The woman had backed herself up into a corner and covered her face. But it was too late and the ulfhedinn whined pitifully as her clothing was shredded. Root stood quietly, her warm breath puffing into the cool early spring air, her brown fur shaking loose the fabric.

Eskel shook his head.

"You have to be by far the least dangerous werewolf in the world." He said and laughed.

Root bobbed her head and grumbled, kicking the once pants off her long back legs. She then spied a witchers' steel long sword on the weapon rack and with a glance to Eskel, strode over, grabbed it and headed toward a training dummy. The young witcher crossed his arms, leaned against the wall and watched.

The dark furred ulfhedinn set her feet and lightly held the grip in her clawed hands, slowing her breathing.

Step, and turn, pirouette and clack, clack!

The werewolf struck the training dummy as she danced around it in her were-form, easily keeping her footing on paws that kissed the earth, a vision of grace and elegance as the steel whirled around her. Eskel's eyebrow went up and he nodded as Lambert silently walked up and nudged him.

Heel and spin, back again and clack!

With a growl, she saw the training dummy as anyone who would harm her family and friends. Root snarled, a terrifying sound that filled the training yard, and her green eyes glowed with golden light from within.

Thwack! Step and roll, turn, and back step, and crash!

Root's blade cleaved the training dummy in two and she stood over it, heaving, growling, snarling, saliva running from her open jaws, her dark blue tongue lolling. The two young witchers both nodded to their mentor as the old man walked into the yard, having watched the display from the shadows. Geralt vanished from the balcony and made his way down.

"You're slow." Ves said, striding forward.

Root turned and immediately dropped low, tucked her tail and rolled her ears forward. She did not look the old one in the face, not in that form.

"That's Wolf School technique to be sure. You have learned well. However, I see more than that in your stance and swings. You've been learning from someone else too haven't you?"

Root growled a series of words and then rumbled an apology, rolled her eyes and stamped her front paw. Vesemir shook his head and laughed, giving the White Wolf a nod when Geralt jogged into the yard.

"Everything alright?" he asked.

"I scared her." Eskel said with a smirk. "I was saying she shouldn't be practicing alone. Witcher training 101, Wolf. Did you forget to tell her that?"

"She's had no choice but to train alone." Geralt said, giving him a shove and a cocky smirk. "So fuck off."

The Witcher gave Root a scratch behind the ears and she rumbled happily, closing her eyes, leaning against his strong body.

"Yes, well, as I was saying. She's slow. Graceful and powerful, I'll give her that. But slow." Vesemir said approaching the couple. "May I?"

The old witcher reached out his hand ran it down the luxuriously soft cocoa colored fur on Root's head, behind the ear and over the thick hump of fur about the neck. She sat quietly and still, almost purring, with closed eyes.

"I have to say your coat is quite beautiful." The veteran witcher said. "Normally a werewolf's pelt is matted and covered in gore from their victims and I've only ever handled such furs as that. I've not seen one this color before either."

"Skellige breeds are usually a grayish blue. Yeah, I know." Geralt said, somewhat surprised by the friendly exchange going on around him. "Not sure why her coloring is what it is."

"So is it true? You saved Geralt from freezing to death?" Eskel asked.

Root opened her eyes, looked up at her Witcher, and nodded.

"Where's that Regis fella?" Lambert asked. "It's the most amazing thing. He can read her thoughts and translate what she says. Fucking awesome. Imagine if we could commune without words like that! Monsters wouldn't stand a chance."

"I think I can tell what she thought by that look, Bertie. Doesn't matter what form she takes. That was a look of pure love."

"Yeah, yeah whatever guys." Geralt said, and kissed her wet nose.

"All right, men. Get it together and get training." Vesemir said clearing his throat. "No breakfast until you're done."

Root nuzzled Geralt's hand and dropped to all fours, heading toward the kitchen.

"Where do you think you're off to, missy?" the old one said, making Root pause and look over with raised ears.

"But…Ves, you told me, and I told her, no more training." The Witcher said.

"No more training her anything new, yes. But no use letting what's been learned go to waste. And if she picks up things by watching, well that's not her fault is it? Now, you're agile in that form so let's see what you've got." Vesemir said with his three male charges exchanging looks as the old man motioned the werewolf forward. "With me. You three trade off. And no showing off Geralt."

Gwynbleidd grinned and drew steel with his brothers as Root rose up onto her back legs and faced off with the greatest teacher of the Wolf School, raising a steel training blade of her own.


	79. Chapter 79

Chapter 79

* * *

An hour or so later, Root was more sore than she'd ever been under Geralt's tutelage. Vesmir had worked her hard, yet the werewolf was elated that the three other witchers' attitudes toward her had definitely changed. And Root wasn't exactly sure why, as they'd had few direct conversations since her arrival at the keep. But she supposed that her good behavior, curiousity, helpfulness in food preparation, and cleaning had all been noted and appreciated. And too, Root remembered well how much Geralt had struggled with having her around when they'd first met. So she kept that in mind, even as it hurt her feelings sometimes that they might harbor dislike of her based on heritage. Still, it'd been a lovely morning and the four men were all chatting together while she reclined, still in wolf form, on top of the wall, looking out over the land.

The warmer weather definitely felt good, and Root knew that she would begin the usual shedding of her heavy coat soon enough. She also wondered if Dandelion would be kind enough to brush her. Shaking her wolfy mane, the werewolf rose and stretched, flexed her paws and lifted her muzzle. On the wind, she caught a familiar scent, but one that surprised her and made her pause. The ulfhedinn looked into the distance and saw, near the riverbank, a small cart drawn by a lightly muscled mare driven by a single figure. In a flash, she leapt from the wall, landed and swiftly transformed back.

"Geralt. Geralt, where's Blue?" she asked, the witchers all noting her anxious tone, even as the younger two let their eyes wander over her nakedness.

"I don't know. Why?" the White Wolf replied with a shrug, the warm breeze tossing a few snowy strays that'd fallen loose from the ponytail.

"There's someone coming." She replied. "And I smell, erm…I…"

Root looked at the other three men and then back to Geralt.

"Someone is coming? Where?" Vesemir asked.

"Up the main road. A cart. One driver." She said and sniffed. "He's nearly here."

"Well, let's see who's calling on us." The headmaster said. "What does this have to do with your man though?"

"Maybe nothing." Geralt said, giving Root a glance. "But whatever she scented is most likely important."

"All right, all right. Everyone stay calm. Could be just a lost trader. They get up in these parts some times, all turned around on the winding roads. Let's just see what they want." Ves said as they headed toward the main courtyard.

Emiel Regis approached them as the group walked into the keep with the Viziman by his side. Root locked eyes with her primary.

 _What do we tell him? You know what the driver is carrying too, right?_

 _Yes, my love, I do. Say nothing. Let us see how things unfold. I haven't told him anything, only that someone approaches and we should all know who and why._

Root nodded but she could not help but give Vernon a very pained look that he noted. Roche tilted his head.

"Root? What's wrong?" he asked, seeing the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, Blue!" she said throwing her arms around his neck, which surprised him and made Regis pinch the bridge of his nose in slight annoyance.

"Root. For goodness sake, pull yourself together." Regis said. "Blue, a quick question. Do you trust me?"

Roche put his hands on Root's shoulders and looked over at the ancient man.

"After all we've come through? Of course." He replied.

"Then do me this courtesy and just remain out of sight. For now. Listen and observe. I have reason to believe you may be in danger." Regis whispered.

The commander nodded as the group came to the great wooden doors of the keep. Root shifted back into her wolf form and lingered in the background with Vernon while Emiel Regis and the witchers swung open the doors.

The horse pulling the cart scented the werewolf straight away and whinnied, her eyes rolling, searching for the threat. Yet Regis' nearness did not annoy the mare, or other animals ever, so perfectly did he pass for human. Vesemir skilfully drew the axii sign and waved his hand toward the snorting and stamping filly.

"Easy, girl." He said soothingly, patting the beast as she calmed. "There you go. And greetings to you, traveler. I trust the roads were clear and kind. What brings you to our doorstep?"

Sir Ian Rutherford nodded politely.

"I've never seen the use of witcher signs in action before. What an amazing trick that is! Would come in handy in many circumstances I reckon. Thank you, kind sir. She can be a might touchy at times. And yes, the roads these days are safe and secure. No troubles at all. I'm actually looking for someone and have reason to believe he may have passed this way." Ian explained.

Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir and Regis all remained calm and cool, while Vernon and Root listened from the shadows of the nearby stables, hidden behind the carriage home that had been parked there all winter.

"I know that voice." Roche whispered, his eyes narrowing. Root growled.

"Ah, so you know what we are and where you are do you?" Ves asked, giving the man a raised eyebrow. "Not many know the way to this old pile of rubble. Who are you looking for, young man?"

Ian Rutherford climbed down from the cart and approached. He was dressed in studded leather pants with a simple cotton shirt and short boots. He noted the unreadable faces of the five men before him. One being the White Wolf himself, who would be recognized by nearly everyone in the world unless they'd been living under a rock. But as for the other four men, Ian had no idea who they were or what connection they had, if any, to his target.

"If you'll pardon me for saying, ain't no mistaking what you are with those eyes. And of course the great Geralt of Rivia. Your legend goes ahead of you always, White Wolf. My name is Ian Rutherford and I'm looking for one Vernon Roche. Have you seen him? Know of him?"

Vesemir and the company exchanged looks and shrugged.

"Sorry, no. No one by that name has passed through here." The headmaster said. "You've come a long way to inquire after this person. Must be important business?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Roche spotted movement in one of the kitchen windows. Some of his soldiers were noting the exchange. They all knew the man who was talking to the witchers and Regis. He motioned for them to remain hidden.

"Of the utmost importance." Ian said solemnly. "I have some of his personal effects and was asked to deliver them. Shame. Well, if you see him, the Imperator would appreciate any information concerning his whereabouts."

Vesemir's eyebrows went up about as far as they could, nearly into his aging grey hairline.

"The Imperator, eh? And what would the lord of Nilfgaard want with a man way out here in Kaedweni territory?"

Ian politely inclined his head. "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but that is for his…"

Root snarled and couldn't hold in her fury any longer. The werewolf bounded into the courtyard, causing all the witchers and Regis to turn as she leapt, soared over their heads, landed in the back of the cart, snapped the cords holding a chest, and climbed back down, backing away with it as Ian stood there gaping.

"Root! Shit! What are you…" Geralt began.

"Ah, Root, is it?" Rutherford said, recovering from the shock. "So you're the werewolf, eh? Don't suppose you'll be tellin' me where Commander Roche of the Blue Stripes is?"

The werewolf blasted the man with a roar, her green eyes furiously burning as she set the chest by Regis and stalked toward Ian.

"Blue…" Vesemir said under his breath, but motioned for Eskel and Lambert to remain quiet.

"Now, now, why are you angry at me? My good sirs, I'd appreciate your help here." Ian said, backing away while his enchanted horse stood calmly, chewing her bit. "That is important cargo meant for one man and one man only. I'm just the messenger. If he's not here…"

"Regis, what's in that chest?" Geralt asked, looking over.

"You don't…"

"Ian!" Roche barked, striding out into the open, walking up to the side of the ferocious and fearsome shapeshifter. "Root, stand down."

Ian Rutherford's eyes widened as he beheld the calm, veiled expression of his once commander. A look he had seen many times. Unreadable, unknowable, and unpredictable, Vernon Roche was known for his masterful use of guerilla warfare, strategic ambushes and the successful carrying out of several covert operations against the Scoia'tel, including the assassination of one of their leaders, which crippled the elven uprising in Temeria. Ian had reason to fear him.

"Commander." Ian said. "We meet again."

Roche regarded the man with his fierce blue eyes and rested a hand on the brown fur of the werewolf who huffed and snarled as she watched the messenger.

'What are you doing here?" Vernon asked coldly.

"I have a message for you. From…from the White Flame, Emperor Emhyr var Emreis, Imperator, long may he reign." Rutherford replied, feeling like shit even as he uttered the words.

Roche turned his head and spat a single word that hit the soldier like venomous bite to the heart.

"Traitor."

"I prefer to think of myself as an opportunist." Ian retorted, warily eyeing the werewolf. "Not all of us are whores' sons without any connections that could be exploited. Think of me what you will, my daughters are not orphans; unlike many of those back in Vizima. Nor will we be martyrs."

"You're a disgrace." Roche said, spitting on the ground. "What's this message?"

Sir Ian recounted the message exactly as the Emreis had spoken it to him and Roche listened with no response. But Root growled fiercely, her body trembling and the man was clearly disturbed and kept glancing at her, even as Vernon calmly stroked the dark brown fur.

Behind them, Regis opened up the chest and turned his head away, covering his sensitive, noble nose with a handkerchief. Vernon walked over and looked inside. His features remained unreadable as he saw the bony hands of King Foltest, with the right knuckle still wrapped in the signet ring of the Lord Commander of the North, resting on a pile of fly infested, stinking, human excrement.

When Roche looked up, Ian thought the look in the commanders' eyes would kill a man where he stood. Yet Vernon remained silent for the time being. Root wandered over, looked into the chest and whined, nuzzling Vernon's hand. The once leader of the Blue Stripes looked at his wife and saw her profound love and care for him in shades of pine green. Vernon then turned his attention back to Sir Ian.

"I shouldn't let you leave." Roche said, walking forward, shadowed by the werewolf.

"I figured you'd say that." Rutherford said. "Allow me to say this though. Emreis is holding my daughters. No doubt, my wife is a wreck wondering why. If I don't return, well, I'm sure you know what he'll do. Will you have their blood on your hands?"

Vernon's eyes blazed with anger, and his voice ripped through the soldiers' steeled heart, biting deep.

"How dare you? You who have betrayed my king and country dare to ask me for mercy? How many sons and daughters of Temeria fell to Nilfgaardian steel!? How many, Ian Rutherford!? How many homesteads burned! How many orchards razed, and crops destroyed in the name of your Imperator? We saw the flames! You ask me for mercy!? You would dare use women and children, your very own neighbors and countryman, as a shield to save your skin!"

"Oh, as if you haven't done as much in Foltest's name?" Rutherford bit back, snarling at his once superior officer. "Don't preach to me you fucking whore's son!"

"I never killed non-combatants! Never! You sentenced your family to death the moment you broke under the torturer's whip! Because then they knew you could be used. They could break you by using whatever they wanted against you. You, not I, Ian, are responsible for your family's death."

Root roared savagely and stood by her mate, fur bristling, claws bared and Ian trembled before them. She remembered the kindness and patience of King Foltest; how he had not thrown her out, but listened to their story, trusting in his most loyal man, the man who was now one of her mates. The carriage home that had carried them and sheltered them for weeks had been his gift. The food and supplies that Roche had brought to them were from him as well. The werewolf had a deep love and appreciation for the Lord Commander, and she was enraged that the person before her had betrayed him. In addition, to add insult to that betrayal, he now delivered a message to her beloved that she knew was meant to provoke him, either to retaliation or surrender. Root wanted to tear the man to pieces; and then tear his emperor to pieces. The effort it took to not let the rage take her was intense.

"If I don't return he'll know you were here." Ian said, trying to stop his voice and hands from shaking. "He'll come for you, Roche. You are the last loyal son of Temeria. You have to die or others could rally around you. So think of these others then, if not my daughters. And this werewolf you are in love with. They'll skin her and the Imperator will wear the fur like a mantle of honor."

The ulfhedinn let dagger long canines slide forward as she curled back her lips and licked her jowls.

"That werewolf is under my protection." Vesemir said, walking forward, shadowed by his students and Emiel Regis. "And these two men are her other mates. I'd watch what you say from this moment on, lad. They don't take too well to their wife being threatened. Now, as I was saying. Root is under my protection, and this keep is under Kaedweni rule. Therefore, unless your Imperator declares war on Kaedwen, your threat is empty. In addition, I'd wager that Emreis is fairly tapped out at the moment and not willing or able to invest heavy resources in another war. But do an old man a good turn and tell your emperor this, if you walk away from this conversation that is. Tell him that he can be sure word will be sent to the ruler of Kaedwen. And that should the Black Sun ever come to this valley, the witchers of the Wolf School and all our brothers and sisters from the other schools, will be standing ready to meet Nilfgaardian steel. These are our lands, lad. Are you certain you want to fight an army of witchers?"

Ian was silent before the group, his face red. Whether with shame or anger, no one knew.

"I gather you believe you're doing what's best to defend your family. And I don't fault you for that. But we're a family too. And we'll defend our own just as fiercely. Now, this old fool has wagged his tongue long enough. Blue, do carry on."

Vernon turned, walked over to the chest and closed the lid, letting his hand linger on the cover for a moment before latching it shut.

"Goodbye, my king." He whispered, and then lifted the box.

"What…what are you doing?" Ian asked as Roche hoisted the chest back into the cart.

"Go home, Ian." Vernon said, standing again beside Root, who had shifted into her human form and leaned against the commanders' side, her hand on his chest, his arm around her waist. Green eyes warily watched the stammering and confused man before them.

The group of five warriors, an ancient barber-surgeon, and one bare skinned woman looked back at Ian Rutherford, who was at a loss.

"You're letting me go? But what about Temeria? What about Foltest?"

"You don't understand." Roche said, laying a hand over his heart. "Temeria and Foltest are here. Home is not a place. Home is where the love is. And I have all of that right here. You take his majesty's remains back to the Imperator and you…you do what you believe is right. Farewell."

Eskel and Lambert shut doors of the keep before the eyes of a very stunned and confused Sir Ian Rutherford, and a mare who tossed her head and reared as the axii sign wore off.

"Well, that was positively one of the most awkward conversations I've ever been privy too. However, well said, Vernon. I suppose we can start using your real name again, yes?" Regis said, breaking the silence.

"Please do." Roche replied, and looked to Vesemir. "I apologize, sir. I gather you are more than a little angry with me and I would not blame you if you asked me to leave. I never meant to put any of your family in danger."

"Bah. That Emreis is going to drive his war machine across the world until someone stops him. Whether it was you who brought him to Kaedwen or something or someone else makes no difference. He'd have showed up one day. Besides, Geralt is family and Geralt is with Root, and Root is with you so that makes you and I suppose you too, Regis, family as well." Ves said. "You don't have any other husbands lurking around in the world do you young lady?"

Root threw her arms around the old man's neck and hugged him. Eskel, Lambert and Geralt all looked on, holding their breath, wondering what the seasoned witcher would do.

"Thank you, Master Vesemir." She said softly and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for protecting us all."

The old man's heart melted and he held the woman of forty or so winters to his chest.

"You're welcome." he replied. "And thank you. Thank you for saving my son."

Root looked at the White Wolf. His golden eyes were proud, with the usual smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.

"Feckbest is ready! Oh gods above. Breakfast is fedy." Errol Dorren called out from the kitchen window. "Come and get it!"

And the company laughed along with the elven man with the speech impediment as they walked in to Kaer Mohren, ready for another day. Yet, as they filed in, Root glanced around and saw Vernon hang back in the courtyard, and then turn away, walking off into one of the other doors. She wanted to go after him, but Geralt lightly touched her shoulder.

"Let him go." The Witcher said, looking in Roche's direction. "He's got some thoughts to sort through I'm sure. I know how that is."

"Root? Can you help me with these pancakes?" Dandelion called over. "I just can't seem to get this whipped cream to…well, whip. How'd your father do it?"

The woman smiled, kissed the White Wolf's cheek and went to the bards' side. Dandelion was sporting a flour dusted apron and had managed to find a puffy chef's hat stashed in one the many drawers or cupboards that was the witchers' pantry. He looked like the very image of ridiculous, and yet somehow it suited the flamboyant man perfectly.

"You need to really work it, D." She explained. "Add a touch of maple syrup for some color and sweetness."

"Bleidd beanna naked!" Cera squealed and the other children giggled and whispered among themselves.

"Ah. Forgot about that." Root said, blushing and tucking a lock of hair behind an ear. "I'll be right back."


	80. Chapter 80

Chapter 80

* * *

After enjoying a sumptuous breakfast, the forest maiden insisted that she be allowed to do all the clean up while everyone else headed outside to enjoy the warm weather. Valonna and Regis took the children for a walk down to the river to stretch their legs, with the vampire also wanting to harvest herbs for tea and medicine, so he took with him the linen satchel that had been stored in the carriage home. Errol and the witchers all met together in the training yard, with the master marksman showing them tricks with a longbow, and Lambert gifting the elf with one of their compact crossbows. Vesemir also ran through the basics of signs, with Errol having shown an interest in learning to use them.

"Signs are just short, silent incantations really." Ves explained. "Sorcerers and others have to really focus on drawing in the power from whichever source, and then direct it. Witcher signs do not work like that. In battle, we don't have time to direct our attention to such things. We need magic that works in the moment. We're not sure why these signs work; we only know that they do."

"Ah, fuch like many folk traditions and feeliefs." Errol replied with a nod.

"Just so." Vesemir said. "There are those who don't put much stock into folk tradition. But I'd wager that many a mother has kept their child from death by the simple placement of beggertick blossoms by the cradle. They may not know why it protects the child; they only know that when the blossoms are there, poisonous spiders and other insects stay away."

"And if it works, who feeds a reason?" Errol Dorren replied. "Ach, needs a feason. Gods. Sorry."

The men laughed and Lambert clapped the elf on the shoulder, assuring him that no one gave a shit about his wording.

"Well, I need a reason." Geralt said, loosing an arrow at a training dummy. "And Yen has explained to me why they work."

"Oh? And what does Miss Vengerberg have to say on the subject? Do tell." Eskel said, ribbing his brother witcher.

The White Wolf reflected on how he missed the violet-eyed beauty that was his Yennefer. She of the glossy black hair scented like lilacs and gooseberries, creamy skin, and delicate throat decorated with her trademark star pendant. He wondered where the legendary mistress of magic was those days; for while they were bound by fate, by a last wish, Geralt of Rivia and Yennefer of Vengerberg were certainly not connected at the hip. The highly intelligent magess often lent her advice and skills to fellow wizards, or met in secret with the last known circles that were quickly fading into obscurity due to anti-magic policies throughout the land. He knew too that Triss Merigold was also working with her fellow mages. And although he supposed Yennefer did it more out of a sense of retribution, Triss had more of a compassionate heart and helped because she wanted to bring healing and happiness to others. Not to say that Yennefer was cruel, she just had very different intentions and desired outcomes when dealing with others.

"Hello? Geralt? Ah, see you bring up Yennefer and he gets like that; all doe-eyed and reflective." Lambert teased, and laughed when Geralt punched him in the arm.

"Fee's quite the woman, master Lambert. I don't blame Gwynbleidd for losing himself in memories of her." Errol said with a nod.

"You know her?" Geralt asked as Lambert and Vesemir walked off to train together.

"Well, not personally, no. She fode through our region though once and stopped to vater her horse and refresh herself at the bathhouse. Which, fy the way, she insisted ve cleaned and properly scented before she'd go in. She paid us vood coin to do it too, but we all found it rather amusing. Still, no mistaking the enchantress for anyone else. Black and white clothing, a jeweled star on an ebony ribbon, and shoes made of basilisk hide with silver heels. Oh, look I made it through a shentence without…aw fuck…"

Eskel and Geralt laughed and the elven man shook his head.

"Yeah, that's Yen." Geralt said fondly.

"Fell, anyways. Fee is quite beautiful. Fo, how do signs vork? Gods, I hate vis. Damned cultists."

"They work because essentially a sign and a spell are the same thing." Geralt continued. "Only a sign is like uttering a single word, and a spell is to recite an entire phrase. However, with signs, we can trace symbols in the air rather than speak. Useful during combat and in other circumstances as well. The trade off, however, is that signs are much weaker with a much shorter duration than proper spells. Therefore, sign users and mages both draw on power. It's just that the mage does it with much more focused mind and intention."

Eskel nodded. "Again, similar to folk tradition. I think folksy types are too drawing on power; they just do not have, as you say, as intense a focus as the professionals. We witchers, while we may be professional monster slayers, aren't exactly pros at magic. But like folk tradition, it has its place and uses."

"Can you show me, White Wolf?" Errol asked.

The men all spent the morning and early afternoon engaged in practice of all kinds. And as midday rolled around, Val and Regis returned from their foraging trip with each of the elven kids carrying a basket laden with wild berries, and Emiel a satchel overflowing with healing and edible plants. Dandelion helped the children wash up their finds, with each getting plenty of the dark, sweet juice onto their fingers and plump berries into their mouths.

"Save some of those for pies and pasties, little ones." Valonna said with a kind smile.

"We should jar some of this too, eh?" the bard said. "Some blackberry jam sounds divine."

Upstairs, Root sat out on the balcony adjoined to Geralt's bedroom with a threaded bone needle in hand and a basket of clothing at her side. The afternoon sun was glorious and warm and she had just finished making another pair of new socks earlier. The winter had not been kind to the mens' clothing, Root had noted, and so she had begun the task of taking their clothes and mending them, or making new garments as needed.

"I'm going to need new leather." She noted, patching up a pair of Geralt's pants. "Guess a hunting trip will be order soon."

Yet as content as she was, the forest maiden knew that Vernon was wandering alone, lost in thoughts she could only guess at. The confrontation with Ian Rutherford had made her angry. But when she'd heard her mate utter the very words she'd said only a few nights prior, it had melted her heart and the anger seemed to fly from her.

"You're right, my love." She said, cutting the thread and tying it off. "His majesty is right here with us."


	81. Chapter 81

Chapter 81

* * *

One week later, Ian Rutherford found himself again in the presence of the Imperator. The severe ruler was having a hushed conversation with a lightly armored, slim man who made his report, bowed with the appropriate flourish, and left the chamber. Ian had considered lying about the commanders' whereabouts. However, he knew in that moment that he'd been followed, and that lying would earn him a quick trip to the noose. Emreis turned his dark gaze to the messenger and folded his arms as the polished doors closed silently.

"What news of Vernon Roche?" the emperor asked.

"He lives, your Grace." He replied, hating himself for telling the truth, yet believing that he had no real choice if he wanted to save his family. "He was at the keep."

"And the message?"

"Delivered. Although the contents of the chest were returned, as you see there." Rutherford said, gesturing to the stinking crate that held some of Foltest's remains.

"And his response?" the Imperator said, pacing before the large fireplace.

"He…he let me live."

Emreis turned and looked at the soldier with scorn.

"Of course he did you twit, you're standing here. What was his response to the content? Will he come?"

"No, your Grace. He has forsaken Vizima as his home and finds companionship with the woman Root." Ian said, trying to relay in words what he beheld when standing before them all.

"The werewolf was there, eh? Disgusting. You northerners will sleep with anything." Emhyr said, feeling dirty just thinking about the notion of bedding a beast, shapeshifter or otherwise.

Rutherford remained silent, although inside he bristled at the jab. All day, every day he had to listen to Nilfgaardian soldiers crack jokes about the people of the North. Such insults were the bread and butter of many folk who had once pledged loyalty to the golden lillies of Temeria but who, for reasons of their own, bent knee to the southern emperor when he took over.

"And I have a message for you, my Imperator." Ian began, and Emreis turned. "From one of the witchers. An older man."

"Vesemir of the Wolf School. An accomplished warrior and instructor. Go on."

"He says that you can be sure the Kaedweni court will be alerted to the visit paid to the keep in your name. And that should Nilfgaardian forces come to claim the son of Temeria, an army of witchers from various schools will be there to stand against you, along with Kaedweni iron and steel." Ian said, not wanting to look the emperor in the face but forcing himself to.

Emreis was silent for a time, pacing the marbled floor of the chamber while gazing out into the indigo sky speckled with silver stars.

"I overestimated his loyalty it would seem. Who knew such a devoted man could be won over by an animal?" the Imperator said with a sneer.

"Begging your pardon, my Imperator, but I did not mean to imply that he surrendered any of his loyalty to Temeria. He said…"

But Ian couldn't bring himself to utter the words as his thoughts wandered to the welfare of his daughters and wife.

"Please, your Grace, my children? How are they?" Rutherford asked, genuflecting before the ruler of the Nilfgaard. "And my wife?"

"What did he say?" Emreis asked, gazing into the cold fireplace.

Ian bowed his head. "He said, "Home isn't a place. Home is where the love is." And that he had everything as such right there. That Temeria and Foltest were within him."

Emhyr sneered and a snort of derision escaped him.

"How quaint. And what about you, Sir Ian?" Emreis asked, turning his hard gaze onto the turncoat soldier. "Where is your home? Where is your love?"

"Here, my Imperator. I serve Nilfgaard."

"Because you want to save your wife and kids? Or because you believe in our ideals?" Emhyr asked.

"Both, your Grace." He replied.

And it was true. Ian Rutherford did believe that several policies of the Nilfgaardian court were indeed better than many of those in place under King Foltest. For starters, the non-human section of the city was one of the first places to be destroyed, with the elven, dwarven and gnomish civilians all being granted accomodations in the city proper and work for the imperial army until they could find new employment and housing. Discrimination out of retaliation, when discovered, was now one of the most severely punished crimes in Vizima. He also appreciated the devotion of the Nilfgaardian people to a single god rather than the quibbling priests and theologians who constantly stood out on soapboxes preaching their unique messages to the generally confused masses. The clergy of the other faiths were allowed to continue under Nilfgaardian rule, but their temples were stripped of tax-exempt status, while converts to the Great Sun were allowed to live tithe free for a year in order to learn the new religion and its customs. However, it was also true that he did not want to see his family swinging from a gibbet. He had seen so many men put to death because they would not renounce their loyalty. Women who'd thrown themselves from the walls, clutching infants to their breasts. And orphans now filled the workhouse because there was no place else for them to go. Ian knew others thought of him as as sellout, a traitor. And in truth, he was. But he considered his conversion in the light of saving his life and the lives of his family. And he found such to be of greater importance than holding onto a dead man and said dead man's ideals.

"You mean it." Emreis said calmly. "I appreciate your honesty. Chamberlain, you may bring them out."

The doors to the private study opened and two blonde haired girls ran into the waiting arms of their father.

"Daddy!"

Ian, at last, let the tears flow down his cheeks, and kissed and hugged his little girls with every once of love within him. Rutherford looked up and nodded to the Imperator.

"Girls." He said softly. "What do we say? Greet your emperor."

The two young women turned and gave Emhyr var Emreis deep, perfectly executed curtsies, lowering their eyes.

"We are grateful, happy servants of Nilfgaard, your Grace. Thank you for your mercy." they said together.

"Go with the blessing of the Great Sun." He said with a gracious nod, and the Chamberlain showed them out, closing the door behind them.

* * *

The following morning, however, the lord of Nilfgaard would find a note lying on his nightstand beneath a lily-pommeled dirk.

 _I could have killed you. Come for me again, and I will._

Emhyr stared at the parchment for a while, and then…smiled. He crossed the room and tossed the note into the coals of the fire that had burned low all evening long. He then placed the dirk atop the mantle, next to the claimed crown of King Foltest. The emperor of half the world nodded.

"You win. Son of Temeria."


	82. Chapter 82

Chapter 82

* * *

For the last week, Root had tried to remain cheerful and in good spirits for those around her. However, after two days of his absence, everyone knew where the Viziman had gone. The wild woman of the woods ached for the commander, and wished only to console and help him if she could. But he hadn't allowed that. He had simply left without saying goodbye. Root wiped her eyes as she stood out on the balcony, gazing into the distance wherein lay Vizima.

"He'll be back, my love." Regis said softly, coming to stand with her. "Remember what he said to that Ian fellow? His love is here. Come to bed, darling."

Geralt was already beneath the sheets, lying on his side, and smiled at her. Root did her best to return the look, but the White Wolf understood how upset she was. Emiel slipped off his jacket and shirt, and tossed them onto the trunk while Root nestled up to the great hunter.

"We shan't need this fire much longer I suppose. It's getting to be quite nice out, even in the evenings." Regis said, adding only a small log to the flames.

"Indeed." Geralt replied, stroking his fingers down Root's shoulder. "The northern vales should be open in another week or two, and we can begin the trek to the homestead and see what we'll need to rebuild. It'll most likely take us a good portion of the spring and summer, but the elves should have a decent place come next winter."

"And with the tunnel that runs between there and the keep, it should be easy to travel between both places, even in inclement weather. Perhaps we can set up some sort of cart system, eh? Get a gnome or dwarven tinkerer in here to draw up plans? A rail system would make transportation of goods and people very easy indeed." Emiel said, sliding into bed, wrapping a hand around Root's waist. "Aww, my dear. Shh, I know it hurts."

Root cried every night that Vernon did not come home. Even as she tried to stop the tears from coming, even as she tried to distract her thoughts, the sobs would start and she would cry until she fell asleep. Both Geralt and Regis had tried to console her, but nothing helped. So they just stayed close to her during the day and slept with her each night.

* * *

After the second week and still no Vernon, Regis noticed that Root had lost her appetite and was not eating much. She was happy enough around the elves, not wanting to upset them, as Errol, Valonna, the children and the sentries were all greatly excited about finally arriving in their new home in the coming weeks. But when she didn't have to be around them, the werewolf stayed in the upper bedroom, sitting on the balcony, her gaze ever turned to the south. She knit socks and scarves, mended leathers and the chain maile armor of the witchers to pass the time.

That night at dinner, Vesemir pushed back from the table, patted his full stomach, and sipped a glass of fine wine.

"That was a fine meal, Dandelion. Ah, an elven vintage. Only a little older than me." He said with a laugh. "Val, be a dear and grab an old man his pipe there would you? So, Root still not eating?"

Geralt and Regis exchanged looks and the Witcher nodded.

"Yeah. Well, barely. She's not starving herself but, yeah." Geralt replied.

"Speaking of which, I'll take this up." Emiel Regis answered, grabbing a plate full of food.

"She's not going to eat it, Regis." The White Wolf said.

"I still want to offer it to her. Just because she refuses, doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate being asked."

Upstairs, Root was standing vigil on the balcony and Regis admired her form outlined in the arch of the double doors. It had been some time since her hair had been cut, and Root's dark brown locks now rested just below the shoulder blade, and were so long that she had to constantly tuck strays behind an ear. The spring breeze tossed the tresses, playing with them and the light fabric of her cotton dress, bringing to him her earthy scent. He set the plate of food at the table and walked to her side.

"Hello, my beautiful one." He said, kissing her fingers. "You need to feed, dearest."

"I'm not hungry." She said, trying to smile.

"I don't mean that kind of feeding, although you really should eat solid food as well. Come on now. You can get some energy from me and you need a short blood feed as well."

Root followed him into the bedroom and her stomach growled seeing the plate full of roast rabbit, cranberry salad greens and steamed vegetables. Regis sat with her on the bed and rolled up his sleeve.

"Lie back." He whispered, pressing his opened wrist to her mouth. "My dear, Vernon would want you to be eating. You know he is going to scold you when he returns and finds out about this. Yes, he is going to return. Hush now, just relax."

After about fifteen minutes, the vampire let her rest, as Root had drifted off to sleep. He covered her up, and brought the food back downstairs.

* * *

Around midnight, Root awoke to the sound of Geralt, Dandelion and Regis all playing Barrel downstairs in the lower bedroom along with Errol, Vesemir, Lambert and Eskel. A genuine smile lit her face, as she was happy that the witchers were now very comfortable interacting with them all. The candles had been extinguished, and the fire was burning low, which gave the room a warm, red luminescence. And then a scent came to her. The one she'd been waiting for, and she gasped.

"There he is!" Dandelion called out. "Hey, welcome back!"

"Where the fuck have you been?" Geralt growled, and then chuckled. "Never mind, we know."

"It is good to see you well, Vernon." Regis said. "I'm sure we'll all want to hear what's been going on at some point."

"I think, gents, there is someone else who needs to see him first. Young man, I'd head upstairs if you catch my meaning." Vesemir said, pouring a shot of whiskey. "Well, come on Dandelion, you going to shuffle the cards again or what?"

"Thanks for the welcome. Yes, I will let you all know what I have been up to. How's she been?"

"She's been watching for you on the balcony every night, but she's hardly eaten a thing." Ves said. "It's not right, a werewolf with no appetite."

"I fink vee know what the commander can feed her. Right, Fernon?" Errol said, making the entire party roar with laughter, including the Viziman who shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Good gods. Yeah, yeah." Roche said.

Roche tossed a black cloak onto his bed, along with a travel pack and bedroll, and unbuttoned his overcoat as he walked up the stairwell. Root sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding as his shadowed figure appeared, lit by the dim glow of the fire. Vernon saw her and smiled, pulling his jacket off and tossing it on the end of the bed as he approached.

"My queen." He said softly, tracing the line of her chin as she looked up.

Root rose and hesitantly reached for him, her lip quivering as her fingers touched his rugged face.

"My Commander." she whispered.

"I'm sorry I worried you. I…I just had to do what I did alone. Forgive me?"

"You didn't say goodbye." She said, as crystalline tears slid down her pale cheeks.

Vernon embraced her, letting his fingers run through her hair while his other hand caressed the groove of her lower back.

"I couldn't." he said, kissing her earlobe. "I knew that one look into your eyes would stop me from going."

Root stroked his handsome face and gazed into his gorgeous blue eyes. "Vernon, I told you. I will never stop you from doing what you want or need to."

"True." He said, brushing his lips against hers. "My gods, you actually do taste like honey, Root. Come here you."


	83. Chapter 83

Chapter 83

* * *

"Ok, ok so here's what happened." Dandelion said, taking another shot of the dwarven spirits. "So Geralt, drunker than he'd been in ages, stumbles up to Roach and plants the biggest kiss on that old mare's lips and says, "Where's my sorceress? Have you seen her?"

The men roared with laughter, including the White Wolf, whose shoulders shook with so much mirth, happy to be sharing ridiculous stories with his brothers and friends.

"True story! I swear! Bards' honor." The poet said, clapping his truest and bestest friend on the shoulder.

"Oh, we believe it, master bard." Lambert added, passing the scotch bottle over to Regis. "Wolf has kissed more than horses in his day."

"Yeah, whatever, guys. You pack of horny ole dogs." Geralt retorted, tossing back a shot and pointing at his brothers. "These two youngins', first trip to Novigrad, fucked every wench in the place twice. At least! And then got thrown out for punching out the innkeep and ended up cozying up to the swine next door to the local butcher shop. Real class act these two."

"Just twice?" Dandelion said with a very self-satisfied smirk. "Amateurs! The lot of you."

"And what about you, master Regis?" Vesemir asked, exhaling and filling the room with bourbon scented pipe smoke. "What kind of romps through the local taverns have you had, eh?"

The dark eyed man waved out a match, drew deeply on his own pipe and smiled at them with his usual pursed lips.

"I once got so drunk that I ran smack into a well while going in for a kiss. The poor girl was so startled she clobbered me with a frying pan. Gods only know where she was stashing the thing!" Regis said, and they laughed. "And you, sir? What does the eldest of the Wolf School have to share with us whippersnappers about his escapades?"

"Ah shit, here it comes." Eskel said, pouring a shot.

"Back in my day…" Lambert joked, doing his best impression of the headmasters' grumpy, grandfatherly voice.

Ves rolled his eyes. "Whippersnapper, my arse. You don't look that much younger than me, Emiel. That is if my age matched my looks. Which it doesn't…well, never mind."

 _Oh, if only you knew, Ves_. Geralt thought, exchanging a quick look with the centuries old vampire.

"Ahem, yes so, back in my day," Vesemir said, flipping off Lambert who snorted beer up his nose, and chortled. "Ah, who am I kidding? Same shit, lads, different day. I reckon things haven't changed much with the male sex for a long, long time. And I don't think it's much different among the races. What say you, Speaker? Any truth to that?"

Errol Dorren finished his mead and exchanged looks with the few men of elven descent in the room.

"Oh, come now." He began. "Fee elfs do not do such crass fings wiff our women."

"Or our horses!" replied one of the men, bringing another round of laughter.

"No, we do much worse." Said another. "We've had far more time to come up with new tactics and the failures that often go with them!"

"I'd like to get me some aen seidhe pussy that's for sure." Dandelion said, who by now was completely wasted. "Elven women taste so damn good. What about Root, Geralt? What do werewolves taste like?"

Geralt's smirk and the glint in his eye told the gathered company of men all they needed to know.

"That good, eh?" Lambert replied with a raised eyebrow.

"That good, Bert."

The elves and their Speaker, Vesemir and his students, Dandelion and Regis all exchanged various stories throughout the evening. And while Geralt never said anything, he was more than a little relieved to have Vernon Roche back in the company. He and the veteran had a long history, and while he would never admit it to anyone, the witcher had been worried about the fiercely loyal soldier, and had even considered following the man in case he got into trouble. However, he knew that such would piss Roche off, so he'd stayed. Too he knew that Root would've been doubly devestated had two of her mates left without explanation. While her womanly sensitivities bothered him at times, Geralt was equally charmed by them, and didn't like to see his mate distressed. Nor did he relish the idea that the sometimes stubborn and shortsighted werewolf may have come after the both of them, although he was confident Regis would've prevented that.

* * *

"So," Vernon said, finally parting from Root's deliciously sweet mouth. "I literally just came home and am starving. Field rations aren't exactly the most appetizing, and I thought I spied some leftovers in the kitchen. The boys tell me you haven't been eating though. Is this true?"

Root shyly looked down and bit her lip. And Vernon had to admit that when she did that, made that girlish pout while tucking her lip, it made him near mad with desire. She looked so damn adorable, and sensuous all at the same time. And too, he loved that her antics were simply that, hers. Root wasn't like a tavern woman looking to make a hefty tip with fluttery eyelashes, rouge tinted lips and an amply exposed bosom. The wild woman was genuinely shy and flirty, teasingly naïve and yet deliciously sexy without having to try.

"I was so worried for you." She said quietly. "I couldn't keep much down."

"You will not do that again." Roche said in a soft but stern voice that made her tingle. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir." She said humbly, looking up at him with her dark green eyes.

"Good." He said and kissed her forehead. "Now, I'm going to get some food for both of us. I'll see you in a bit."

Root wandered down the stairwell and stood in the lower doorway after Vernon left to find something to eat. She listened to the banter of the men and leaned against the stone arch, watching Emiel Regis and Geralt, content and pleased that all her mates were safe and sound. Regis sensed her and looked over.

"Ah, there she is." The vampire said, sliding his chair back and opening his arm for her to sit with him. "Would you like to play Barrel with us, my dear?"

"Hold on, lads. Young lady?" Vesemir said softly, catching Root's gaze. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Vernon is mak..ing…oh…" she began, but her voice trailed off.

Vesemir raised an eyebrow and looked over to a grinning White Wolf.

"Ah, she gets like that. It's our eyes." Geralt said.

The old man looked over to Regis who nudged Root and she blinked a few times.

"What do you mean?" Ves asked, sitting back in his chair, with Eskel and Lambert curious about the odd response as well.

"Root?" Regis asked softly. "Do you mind if we share with them your peculiar response to certain things?"

"You're not going to use it against me are you, gentlemen?" she asked in her sweetest, most charming voice.

"Oh my gods is Lambert blushing?" Dandelion said, pointing over at the youngest of the monster slayers, who absolutely and positively was blushing.

"Only one hunter at this table gets to use it against you, Root." Gwynbleidd said, clicking his fingers next to her ear.

The werewolf went right out, her chin falling slowly to her chest and she leaned against Emiel Regis. Errol, Dandelion, the soldiers and the elves had all witnessed Root's strange responses to various stimuli and were used to seeing the the woman get distracted and drift off for various reasons. But the three other witchers were amazed and looked to Geralt.

"When did you learn to do that?" Vesemir asked.

"Can she hear us?" Eskel asked.

"Yes, she can." Regis said quietly. "She's not asleep. Not yet. She's just in a light trance. Come on, my dear. Wake up."

Root opened her eyes and blushed when she saw all of them looking at her. Regis gently stroked her back, assuring her that she was safe.

"I can't use signs on her that affect the mind. Well, not anymore." Geralt said, finishing his mug. "But we discovered that Root is…easily distracted shall we say?"

"Why is that?" Vesemir said, addressing Root. "Do you know where that comes from?"

The werewolf shook her head.

"No. But it's not altogether unplesant either." She replied.

"Oh, is that so? Wait. You…you like that don't you?" Lambert asked, his face breaking out into a wide grin.

The woman hid her face, leaning into Regis' chest.

"What did you mean by, "Not yet.", Regis?" Eskel asked, nodding to the elves and their Speaker as they rose to leave. "G'night, men."

Errol leaned down and whispered into Root's ear, making her squeal.

"Good night, fleidd beanna. Sleep well." He said and she nuzzled further into Regis.

"I mean that given time she will fall asleep. It transitions quickly for her so if you don't want her to, you need to wake her. The trouble is, with each time she's goes out, the deeper she goes and it gets harder to get her up." Emiel explained, nudging her. "As like right now. My voice alone will do it sometimes. Same with Geralt there."

"It's too bad then that you cannot use the somne sign on her, Wolf. I gather she'd like that." Ves said, giving Root a wink.

"Somne sign?" she asked, looking over to the Witcher with a pout. "Which one is that? You didn't tell me about that one."

Geralt looked deeply into her pine green eyes and watched as she got lost in the golden depths of his own.

"Because I don't need it." He purred and then laughed quietly, touching her shoulder. "And I cannot use it on you. But since Ves brought it up, why don't you demonstrate, master?"

"Certainly. Dandelion, look here." the headmaster said, tracing the sign in the air.

"Oh, no, why does it…have to be…mrfff…"

The poet's head drifted to his chest and then to the table as he began to snore.

"Somne, in the scholars' tongue simply means sleep. And it does just that, puts a target into a deep sleep. This sign enjoyed popularity and frequent use, oh many years ago now, but fell out of favor as we discovered that the axii sign could be used to induce the same state. In addition to it rendering the target highly suggestible, even manipulatable to a certain degree, depending on the circumstances. However, I find the somne sign to be useful and have always passed along its use to my students. Signs aren't just for combat."

Root nodded. "Like when Geralt uses igni to light candles or start fires. Or axii on Roach when she gets nervous. Somne could be useful to healers too."

"Exactly, Root. So, tell me. How is it that your mind came to be shielded from signs? And does this warding extend to all magical influences?" Vesemir asked, nodding to Vernon who came into the room with a tray full of food. "Ah, and here is your husband with a very late dinner."

"Erm, that's…um…" she said, her cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.

"That'd be you, Regis, eh?" Eskel asked. "The very man who said he could keep her from harming anyone, has to be the same man responsible for protecting her, yes?"

Emiel Regis nodded. "You are correct. As for how, Master Vesemir, I hope you'll pardon me if I decline to share the details. It is a very powerful, intimate connection we share."

The headmaster nodded. "I understand."

"Wait." Root said, smiling at Vernon who set food and drink in front of her. "Thank you. Geralt? Couldn't we make somne amulets? To help people sleep?"

Vesemir, Lambert and Eskel all looked over to the white haired warrior who nodded and snagged one of the dark berries from her plate.

"Sure. In fact…I wonder…" he said, rubbing the stubble on his angular chin. "I can't use the sign on you directly. But…"

Root squealed as she understood his meaning, and leapt up but Roche stopped her with his firm, pale blue eyes and pointed at the plate of food.

"When you're done. Eat." He said, shoveling roast rabbit into his mouth. "Oh, yes. Mm. So much better than dried meat and fruit leather. My thanks to whomever made this.'

She obediently sat back down on Regis' lap and Roche, curiously, moved a clay goblet filled with apple cider away from her.

"You can have that when you're done. Later." He said.

The three witchers marveled at the authority the soldier seemed to have over the wild woman as she ate quietly, while Geralt and Regis just shook their heads and smiled.

"You lot are weird, do you know that?" Lambert said, finishing a mug of ale. "And what is that about? Your special thing with her?"

Roche nodded, chasing his meal with cold beer. "It is."

"Melitele's bosom, if I could get my students to listen with such attention and devotion we'd be even more powerful than we already are, lads." Vesemir said. "Alright, Wolf, spill it. What's your connection?"

Root looked over to Geralt as she slipped a dark berry between her lips and smiled at him. The Witcher leaned forward and poured himself another shot.

"Isn't that obvious? I'm her captor." He answered with a sly grin.

"Ah, I see." Eskel replied. "The thrill of the hunt, eh? I've known some horned women into that."

Root gave the younger man a shy smile, and he too flushed and cleared his throat.

"Master, who is Melitele?" Root asked, nibbling on the greens and vegetables.

Geralt rolled his eyes as Dandelion's snore rattled the dinnerware.

"Oh, please don't talk about religion." He grumbled, tossing back a drink. "Especially now when we're all half in the bag. And it's bloody late."

"I'm surprised you don't know of her, lass. Do you not follow the gods of the North?" Vesemir asked. "Oh, quiet down, Wolf. You don't look ready for a nap anyways."

The woman shook her head. "I would say I neither follow nor…not follow them. I've always had my own god, and the spirits of the land I lived on. I never knew there was anything or anyone else."

"Ah, I see. Curious. Well, Melitele the Mother is one of the main deities honored in the northern realms. In fact, I believe her following is almost as large as that of the Eternal Fire, who tend to make up the majority of religious believers."

Root growled so Regis soothed her by sending calming thoughts directly into her mind, closing his eyes briefly.

"Not a fan of them, eh?" Lambert said, having pulled a dagger from his boot, using the tip to clean under his nails. "You're in good company then. None of us are."

"Yes. Geralt mentioned you had a run in with some of the devotees of the Flame." Ves said. "Apparently they're the reason Errol has his speech issue now."

"This is true." Regis answered. "Although the Speakers', no pun intended, ability to speak has greatly improved. I didn't think his jaw would function properly and feared he'd be unable to take nourishment. But that elf is made of tough stuff, I tell you."

"But what was I saying? Ah, yes. So, Melitele is a goddess. She watches over all things that you'd usually find with mother figures. Childbirth, care of homestead chores, domestic type stuff, mothers and pregnant women. Some say she is the original creator of the world, while others scoff at that idea. Me? I was raised up in the belief that the Mother looks over our world and cares for those who come to her with an open heart and willingness to aid and protect. Sounded like the perfect patroness for a young witcher to me." The headmaster explained. "What about you, Root? Who is this god you follow?"

Geralt, Regis and Roche all exchanged looks and then turned their gaze to the forest maiden.

"He goes by many names. The Horned One, the Green Lord, Master of the Hunt, Lord of Animals and other such titles. But I understand, from my reading of folklore, that the being I honor is what you call a leshen." She said, watching Vesemir's eyes get about as large as the silver serving plates during Foltest's feast.

"Yeah. That was my reaction too." The White Wolf said.

"I beg your pardon, lass, but did you say a leshen?"

Root nodded. "May I be done eating, husband?"

Roche looked at her plate.

"Yes. And yes, a leshen." Vernon said. "You should've seen Wolf's response when he showed up."

"I'm sorry…what?!" Lambert replied, pausing and exchanging looks with Eskel and the headmaster. "You saw it?"

"Well, not exactly." Geralt said. "It's…complicated to explain. Root, why don't you go get your amulets now. I want to test something."

Root, who was grateful to not have to explain the connection to the forest god of her homeland, jumped up and raced out of the room.

"Dandelion. Hey, get up." The White Wolf said, nudging the poet who snorted and wiped his chin. "Come on, look alive already."

"Wuh? Ohhhhh….ya." the poet yawned. "Wow, that sign is powerful. Yeah, thanks for that, old man."

Vesemir winked and looked over to Vernon, who was packing a pipe.

"So what's in that cider, soldier?" he asked.

Roche paused, tilted his head and gave the headmaster a nod.

"Ah, you can smell that can you? That's fairly impressive, sir. She can't but you can. Just a little something I had our master alchemist make for me. Nothing to be concerned about. It's my way of making it up to her for leaving without saying goodbye."


	84. Chapter 84

Chapter 84

* * *

Root climbed up into the carriage home and paused as a wave of gratitude and memory swept over her. She struck a match and lit the lantern that still hung from the top spine that supported the heavy canvas. The candle inside was a stubby, melted and cold lump but warmed immediately as the flame kissed the wick. The home on wheels had sat in the stables for over a month, now almost two, and she hadn't visited it once since their arrival at the keep. The fur bed was all askew, and she recalled their flight from the Wild Hunt, the children all nestled into the back with Dandelion and Valonna to keep them warm as she'd leapt out to confront Eredin and his dread cavalcade. There were other supplies still stashed in the home too, including the tents of the elves and soldiers, crates of now spoiled food that no one had thought to check, a small barrel of mead that she was sure would not go unappreciated, several bottles of apple wine made from the farms of White Orchard, and of course the drawers full of their spare clothing, Regis' books, Dandelion's lute, and a pair of Geralt's leather gloves.

Taking the gloves into her hands, which smelled of wood smoke and the pine forest, Root held them to her face, loving the scent of the great hunter, the witcher who'd once captured her body, but had soon after captured her heart. With fondness she too recalled the handsome face of King Foltest, the giver of the carriage home, and the light smile that had played upon his features when they'd all tried to accept blame for bringing trouble to the kingdom. Root admired the ruler, his patience and graciousness. She remembered when she'd been poisoned and having fallen into a faint, he'd kindly allowed her to be cared for by Regis until she was well enough to come see him again. With some pain, she remembered too the confrontation in the throne room with Arklan aen Caem, half brother of Falithe, both men sick and twisted in their own ways. She laid a hand on the wooden drawers as tears of fondness rolled down her cheeks.

"This home has touched so many peoples' lives." She said softly. "His majesty's, Geralt's, Regis' and mine. Vernon's, Dandelion's and the elves'."

Root remembered the confrontation with Errol, how he'd demanded that she reveal what he thought were ulterior motives for saving his life. The carriage had provided an escape for her, and was a hospital for her wise healer husband who'd tended to her grave wounds. The tiny home was their kitchen, with the outdoor setup having provided countless meals and storage for the spoils of the hunt. Fondly, the forest maiden gave thanks to the Horned Lord, for it was her belief that meat was given by his hand alone and she felt that they'd received much abundace from the Master of the Hunt.

And with that thought, she recalled the reason for coming down, and began searching through the supplies for the basket of cloth amulets.

"There it is." She whispered and smiled, seeing the small fabric pieces lying within.

* * *

The early morning hours rolled on, yet none of those gathered in the lower bedroom of Kaer Mohren wanted to turn in. As Root came back into the room, Geralt was speaking.

"So, that's my theory. Hey, you were the doubtful one, Dandelion, so zip it. We can't test it on her."

"Test what?" Root asked, sitting down at the table. "I so miss our little home."

Regis stroked her fingers and then kissed them, knowing the reflections she'd experienced while fetching the basket.

"It's all we have left of his majesty too." Roche said quietly with a distant, sad look in his pale blues.

"Vernon?" Root began and he looked to her. "May I ask why you sent King Foltest's remains back to the Imperator?"

The commander smiled at his wife. "Because honestly, who wants a stinking pair of rotting hands? But seriously, I considered saving the signet ring. And yet, I wanted nothing from the the emperor of Nilfgaard. I didn't want to give him any reason to think I was grateful to him. And as I said, Foltest is here. Yeah, I see you rolling your eyes, Wolf. But that's how I see it."

"Why did you let that Ian fellow live?" Lambert asked. "You could've sent a strong message to the White Flame."

"What message would that be? That a superior officer and soldier can best a farm boy? Hardly a strong message, sir. Look, I don't blame Emreis for coming after me. I understand his reasons. His majesty would've done no different. I don't like Nilfgaard, and I dislike much of their culture and society. But politics and war I get. And Ian was right. Others could rally to me should I choose to reveal my whereabouts or seek out any still loyal to the lillies. But to be fair, Lambert, I had thought about killing him. Not for myself, you understand, but to protect all of you. Most especially my wife, who was also a target of the Imperator, and may be still. But then master Vesemir here stepped in and, well you all heard. Besides, I have sent a very strong message to the lord of Nilfgaard. He won't come for me a third time."

"Ah, so that _is_ where you went." Eskel said, leaning back in his chair. "Do tell."

"So you're an assassin as well as Commander of the Blue Stripes, Foltest's special forces, are you? Sweet Mother's tits, what else is going to appear on my doorstep?" Ves said.

"I've been called upon to do many things, sir." Roche said humbly but with a dark glint in his eyes. "Assassination is often preferable to outright combat. It saves lives, when done precisely and with perfect political timing, and resources. I actually wanted to see a guild started for sanctioned assassinations, so that such could be regulated. But that's another story and well, his lordship and I didn't see eye to eye on that issue. But yes, that's where I went and yes, Vesemir, that is part of what I do. Well, did. Anyways. No one knows Vizima like I do, especially the palace. I was roaming the back alleys and hidden corriders of that city since I'd first been allowed out on my own. If I may be so bold, I got into the palace and into Emreis' private chamber with so little trouble I had to consider whether he was allowing me to do so. I doubled back, retraced my steps and watched for hours, making certain I was not being shadowed. And when I stood over his bed, watching the ruler of half the world sleep, I could've struck him down. But didn't."

"Why not?" Geralt asked as Root came to sit with him and nestled up to his chest, nuzzling the white hair at his shoulders. "Not a word."

"Because whether I like to admit it or not, Emperor Emreis is a good leader for his people. Just because I dislike Nilfgaardian ways doesn't mean I think I can kill a man for it. True, he's an invader. And yes, he killed my lord. Foltest would've done no different had he invaded the lands of the Black Sun. War never changes. Men do though. I wanted the Imperator to know I could get within striking distance. I want him to have that little shadow of fear lurking in his mind for the rest of his life whenever he turns in for the night. So I left the dirk that killed Cahir Mawr, the first of his minions sent after me, as a warning."

"But what about Root?" Vesemir asked. "You said she was a target too? Wouldn't killing the emperor be a move to protect her?"

Roche nodded. "I concede that point. True. However, it would seem that she was a secondary target, made so as part of a deal with the king of Redania. Now that Radovid's people have been dealt with, there's no political reason, for Emreis, to want her dead. And playing the game is what it's all about. So, enough about that topic. Your test, Wolf? Let's do this."

The Witcher smiled and took one of Root's amulets from the small woven basket she'd brought back from the carriage home.

"All right. Now, Dandelion. You were skeptical of Root's little charms here and questioned whether or not they would be effective. And I don't blame you. I'm not exactly a fan of folksy ways myself. As our woman here well knows. However, that said, I don't write it off completely either. In addition, these are infused with actual signs, not just personal beliefs."

"Are they now?" Vesemir said, as Root handed him one of the Igni charms. "Ah, yes, I can sense it. What would a person want with a fire amulet?"

Root sipped the cider and wiped her lips. Roche covered a grin by stroking his fingers over his chin and listened patiently.

"Well, the way I make them I weave protective intent into the stiches and fabric as I go. With these, I ask the sign to be a ward of fire around a person, their home or belongings. A protective flame rather than an aggressive one."

"That is fascinating, my dear. What a unique take on how to use the signs." Ves said. "Continue, Wolf."

Geralt took one of the unsigned amulets, curled his fingers into somne and cast it over the cloth. A soft, lavendar glow enveloped the sewn piece and settled into the fibers before becoming faint, and vanishing.

"So, moment of truth. You believe that personal belief alone doesn't make something effective, correct?" the White Wolf asked the poet.

"More or less, yes." Dandelion replied. "I mean sure, healers talk about placebo effects but I'm not sure I really buy that myself."

"But that is precisely why we cannot use Root to test this." Regis piped in. "Her mind is already predisposed to want to fall asleep and thus if we told her one of these amulets would do it, I am quite certain the desired effect would take place. The placebo effect has been well tested and documented for centuries by barber-surgeons, physicians, and healers of all kinds, master bard. Take it from this professional. If you trust my word that is."

"Of course I trust you, Regis. But, yeah I don't know. I mean are you saying if that I believed I could fly, if I really believed in it, I could? That's rubbish. And you men all know it." Dandelion retorted.

"A fair point, lads." Vesemir said. "So are you saying you're absolutely convinced that this amulet, infused with the somne sign, will have no effect on you whatsoever?"

"I am." The bard said with a firm nod.

"But the sign does work on you when a witcher casts it. We saw that earlier. So are you so certain?" Emiel Regis said, sensing Root's subconscious thoughts as powerful reagents coursed through her veins.

"Something direct from the source I can understand. But something introduced to a person through a medium, yeah I'm not sure about that." The bard said.

"Oh really?" Roche replied, glancing at Root, noticing her eyes becoming glassy. "Interesting."

"Well, here you go then. Put it on and let's see." Geralt said, handing Dandelion the amulet.

He slipped it over his head and waited. Everyone at the table was curious, including Root. But after a minute of nothing happening, the bard thought that his view had triumphed.

"You see? Not even a yawn." He said with a huge grin and spreading his hands wide before clapping them.

Root pouted and looked over at the White Wolf.

"So, I guess we won't be selling these at market then, right?" she asked. "I mean, no point if they're not effective. Not really."

"Oh. Oh, Root, it just occurred to me how this must upset you." Regis said. "My darling, I didn't even think of…"

"No, no, it's OK." Root said, feeling a wave of warmth flood her veins. "I want to know the truth. Even when I'm wrong."

"Wait, wait…hold on…" The poet said. "I think…"

"Oh, D. You're just saying that." Root said playfully, rubbing her eyes, still oblivious to what Roche had done.

"Come on now, mi'lady." The bard said with a smile. "This is a serious test and I want to know if there's any validity to these amulets too. And I think, yes I definitely feel something."

"Splendid! Oh, this is amazing indeed." Regis said. "I've never done such a test myself. How do you feel, Dandelion?"

"Nothing like what she's feeling I bet." Lambert muttered under his breath, nudging Eskel in the ribs as Root yawned.

"Relaxed. Just…really mellow and quiet. You know? Like after a fine cup of chamomile tea drunk about thirty minutes before bed. Now mind you, it's late. So maybe we should've tried this during the day when we were all wide awake. But I had a little snooze earlier. And I remember how that sign felt when you cast it on me, Vesemir. I have to concede, I feel the same thing, only weaker with this. You're right, Root. These sign amulets do have something to them. Not to say I'm conceding that all folk belief is suddenly vindicated or anything. But this? This is definitely real." He said.

Root positively beamed, clapped her hands and tipped to the side as she went to stand up. Geralt rose, held her in his arms and she leaned on him heavily.

"Vernon, you want to take her?" the Witcher said.

"Mmmmhm" she mumbled, trying to focus on the men seated around her.

The commander rose and gave them all a nod.

"Good night, gents. Well, good morning, shall I say. I have her, Geralt."

"Night, Roo." Dandelion said.

"Sleep well, my love." Regis said.

"Nighters, beast." Lambert said, and Geralt shot him a look. "What? It's funny."

"That's weird is what it is." Eskel said with a chuckle. "I'm not judging or anything but she lets him do that to her?"

"Yep she does." Geralt said with a long yawn himself. "She's got an agreement with him about authority. Well, you saw. Whatever. As long as she likes it and they're safe, I don't care."

"What about you, Emiel?" Vesemir asked, rising from the table.

"I made the mixture, sir. So yes, I'm fine with her imbibing it from time to time. Were it anyone less of a professional than Vernon Roche, I would object. And it would seem the somne amulet has indeed been proven a success. Anyone care to carry Dandelion to bed? I didn't think so. Dandelion. Hey, wake up."

Regis slipped the amulet from the bard and shook his shoulder, stirring him.

"What? Who? Oh…well shit." He said and wandered out of the room to his own.

"Sleep well, brothers." Geralt said. "Master."

"You heading up, Wolf?" Regis asked.

"Nah. He can sleep up there with her tonight. I'll crash on his bed."

"Very well. Good night, old friend." Regis replied, settling into the chair by the fire with a pile of books.

* * *

Upstairs, Vernon lay his lady down into the bed and she looked up at him with heavy eyes through the soft darkness.

"You still have no idea do you?" he asked, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "Do you not recall the feeling? It wasn't that long ago, Root."

Root turned her head, finding it impossible to lift it, and gazed at her husband.

"What do…" she gasped. "Vernon!"

The commander laughed, slipped off his shirt and shrugged out of his pants. His ripped soldiers' body was glorious in the light of the pale starlight that lit the master bedroom. Roche slid into the sheets beside her and gently pulled the woman to his chest, where he knew she liked to be.

"You're so very helpless right now, Root. What shall I do with you?" he said, gazing at her.

"You're…for…given…" she whispered, smiling at him.

Roche chuckled. "Ah, that's what I wanted to hear."

"Vernon?"

"Yes, my queen?" he said quietly.

"I love you." She whispered. "I'm glad…you're…home…"

He smiled and stroked her brown hair.

"Me too. I'm glad I have a home to come back to." He replied, kissing her eyelids. "Shhh, sleep now. You've fought it long enough."

"Mmm but…I like…"

"I know you do. But it's so very, very late. I think you slept for a little while today, true. But I haven't. And I cannot sleep until you do." He replied.

"Why…not?" she muttered, her eyelids too heavy to open.

"Because a commander sleeps when he knows all is well and as it should be. All is as it should be when this I know you're…asleep."

Root snored against his chest, her fingers resting, unmoving at last.


	85. Chapter 85

Chapter 85

* * *

A few hours later, the early morning light of dawn was slowly drifting across the land, painting the mountains in a wash of golden rose and fading lavender. The evergreens sang a soft song as the mountain wind blew through the long needles, carrying warm spring air and the scent of the wildflowers blooming in the valley. Delicate heads of white daisies and yellow tulips nodded in the breeze, as the grasses, freed at last from the winter snows, waved to the morning.

Root stirred and opened her eyes, spotting a mountain warbler resting on the balcony before flying off for its breakfast. She gazed on the face of her soldier husband and smiled, caressing his stubbled cheek.

"You're up way too early, my queen." He muttered with a smile, opening his eyes.

"I'm used to being up early." She replied softly and yawned. "But I think I woke because what you gave me wore off. You sly man you."

"You liked it." He said, and she nodded.

"Vernon?"

"Yes, Root?"

"Would you…um, that is…do you think we could, some day, when we're, you know, living on our own and supporting ourselves, do you think…I mean if Geralt and Regis wanted it too…oh…well, oh I don't know…"

The woman stammered on for a while, her brow furrowed and her fingers fidgeting against Vernon's chest. But Roche knew what she was asking and he put his finger to her lips, stroked them softly and traced the curve of her chin.

"If that's what you truly want, Root, it would be my pleasure. In many, so many ways. And I agree, all your husbands should know and give you their thoughts too. Alright?"

"Really?" she said yawning.

"Of course. Now it's early still. Close your eyes." Vernon said.

Root playfully refused and bit her lip, testing him.

"You're naughty." He said with a grin. "But gods you're hot when you do that. Close. Your. Eyes. Now, Root."

With a light little giggle, she nestled into his chest and fell back to sleep as he trailed his fingers down her arm.

* * *

Later that day, Root and Regis were having a walk together down by the river. It was lovely weather, with the radiant sun shining on them and the barefoot forest maiden let her feet kiss the earth for the first time in months. Flocks of small birds, returning from their journey to warmer climates, chirped and sang, and a brown bear, having just awakened from hibernation, wandered past them with three cubs tumbling along behind. The blue green water was flowing fast and had swollen because of the melting snow, and the herbalists knew that after a few days, a fresh stock of wild mushrooms would be available in the damp soil near the bank. But for today, the couple was content to be near one another. Although Regis had a reason for wanting to be alone with his lady. As the sun began it's journey into the west, and Root finished packing her woven basket with river mussels and crayfish, he approached and put his hands around her waist.

"My dear, Root." He began. "There is something we need to speak of."

Root's face fell, immediately thinking she'd done something wrong.

"No, no. Nothing like that, darling. Far, far from it." He said.

He slid his hands along her waist and in doing so it pained him to remember what lie beneath the clothing; the dark mark where the Frost had touched her.

"What is it my gorgeous higher vampire?" she said sweetly, relieved. "May I have a blood feed again? I've been thinking I may need more nourishment soon."

Regis gave her a soft smile. "Yes, you may. Just not right now. But yes. And curiously enough, that relates to what I need to talk about."

"Oh?" she said, setting the basket down.

"You know that I am always aware of your thoughts, my dear. And I know what you and Vernon spoke of early this morning. It brings my heart joy that you have opened yourself up to wanting a child. I know that you didn't want children for most of your life. And…"

"Oh, Regis!" she said excitedly. "I've been thinking of names too. But of course I was going to ask you and Geralt about it as well. I would never, ever impose on Master Vesemir to raise a child after all. I thought once we were settled into our new home and had enough resources that maybe…"

"No, I know, Root." The vampire said softly. "But if you would…"

"If it's a girl I was thinking of Emiela Lily Yellow Wolf." She continued, her face positively beaming with happiness. "It's a little long, I know, but I think it's perfect."

Regis was stunned for a moment. "Oh, my. Root, that is wonderful. I am honored. But…listen…"

Root slipped from his arms and twirled, her feet tracing a pattern on the ground as she danced. The ancient man smiled, unable to help himself at seeing her obvious joy in the idea of bearing a son or daughter.

"I'm so happy, Regis! I never thought I'd…Regis? What is it?" she asked, seeing how happy and yet sad the man looked all at once.

"Root…" he said, taking her hand.

Regis kissed her fingers as the river turned to rose gold and a warm spring breeze brought to them the scent of lilacs.

"You remember our flight from the Hunt, yes?"

"Of course, my love." She replied, stepping close.

"You remember the White Frost?"

"I do. But what does that have to do with this?" Root asked, carressing his face. "My Regis, what pains you so?"

"That I have to be the one to tell you, my dear. Because only I know what has happened due to our profound connection."

"What has happened?" she asked, searching his dark eyes.

Regis leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry, Root. I'm so very sorry I couldn't protect you from it." He said with such love and sympathy. "I'm sorry I couldn't heal it. But…where the Frost touched you…it…"

Root jerked as if she'd been shocked and her face fell as huge tears rolled down her cheeks.

"No…" she whispered.

"I'm sorry, my dear, sweet Root. I'm sorry." Regis said, embracing her as the woman broke down.

"I…I was finally…ready…I…" she sobbed but could hardly get the words out.

"I know." He said softly, holding the woman to his chest while stroking her hair. "I wish I could make that part of your body whole again. If I knew some way of healing you, I would do it. But the White Frost is deadly and to be honest, you're very lucky it didn't hit you directly. It would've taken you from me. From all of us."

She nodded but still cried as the sun set over the ridge-line of the young mountains. Regis walked with her back to the keep and nodded to Geralt and the others, who were cleaning out the carriage home in the courtyard.

"Later." He said as the Witcher paused, looking concerned. "Come on, love. Let's get you some tea."

When Root had finally calmed down and drifted off to sleep, Regis and Geralt stood out on the balcony outside the bedroom. The vampire closed the glass doors, and handed his companion the bag of smoking herbs.

"So what happened?" Geralt asked, lighting his pipe.

Regis exhaled and gazed out into the early evening. The pale stars were just barely visible in the soft grey sky, still tinged with pinks and a last shimmer of orange on the horizon.

"Root was going to speak to you about this. You and I. But I knew I had to talk to her first since…well, because I know things." He sighed heavily. "Root was going to ask us if we would want to have a child."

The White Wolf raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

"Uh huh. And I assume she's spoken to Vernon about this?" the Witcher asked.

"Yes, she has. And it would seem our man was willing. However…"

"She's sterile." Geralt finished for him.

Regis looked over, surprised.

"Yes. But how did…"

"I didn't know for certain." Geralt began, looking out over the Morhen valley. "But I knew there had to be some damage where the Frost had touched her. A permanent bruise was never going to be all she got away with. But since she'd never expressed a desire for children, I didn't think troubling her about it, or asking you was really necessary."

"Fair enough." Regis conceded with a nod. "So yes. Our dear lady has had her fertility destroyed by the Wild Hunt. I'm furious and yet so sad all at the same time, Geralt. She had a name selected you know? Emiela Lily Yellow Wolf. For a little girl."

Geralt smiled and was deeply touched, knowing the significance behind each of the names selected.

"No doubt with the surname Roche." He said, and nudged his friend. "Or Godefroy."

"Terzieff-Godefroy, thank you very much." Regis answered, giving his friend a light smile. "It wouldn't have mattered what surname, if any, she choose. Not to me anyway. But I think it would've mattered most to Vernon to have his surname. He is, after all, the human one of the bunch and most connected to human traditions, especially concerning relationships. Although to be fair, the man certainly has come a long way from the monogamous person he was when we first met. Polyandry isn't exactly common, and in some cities it's actually against the law, if you can believe it."

"True. You're probably right. And I do believe it. Redania is notorious for punishing women with multiple partners. Have you told him?"

"Goodness no." Regis answered. "Root only asked him this early morning if he'd be open to it. I was…I was actually kind of hoping you could talk to her."

"Me?" Geralt asked. "Why me? You know I'm not good at talking about that kind of stuff, Regis."

"Well, not to put too fine a point on it but, because you are also infertile."

"Ah. Thanks for the reminder."

"I didn't mean that as an insult, old friend."

"I know. But look, Regis, that was my choice. This is different. I knew I'd never be able to father kids. This? Root's had her choice taken away from her. What would I possibly know about that? Especially since I'm a man?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Regis replied, leaning on the ledge. "You think it is a woman's decision alone to bear children? Sure, you couldn't have planted the seed in her, but you're part of our trio of husbands and would've borne responsibility for providing for it. Of course you have a say in that and thus a say in her decision-making process about having a child, even if impregnated by another."

The White Wolf nodded. "Yeah, I guess. That's just not what you normally hear in a lot of places."

"Oh, believe me, I know. Many females waxed on to me for many an hour about how having a child or terminating a pregnancy was their choice alone. That's rubbish in my humble opinion. Of course there are other voices that should be heard. But my view is not the popular one."

"Do you mean you'd refuse fertility help to some women back at the shop in Dillingen?" Geralt asked, looking over.

"Well, no. They were adults, after all. I would counsel them, but in the end if they wanted the herbs, I sold them. I feel strongly about my positions, but I don't force them on anyone. Still, five hundred years experience is a lot to lean on and learn from. But of course it's not like I could tell them about that. So, will you talk to her?"

"Yeah, I will." Geralt answered. "Are you keeping her asleep?"

"I had been whilst we spoke. But she can wake now whenever she likes. I'll go down and help get dinner ready. Thank you, Geralt." Regis said.


	86. Chapter 86

Chapter 86

* * *

Root opened her eyes and blinked a few times as she sat up. She'd napped so heavily, with the vampires' help, that it took her a few moments to remember how she'd ended up in bed. When the memory of that days walk with Regis came back to her, Root's face fell and she wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Hey." Geralt said quietly, walking in from the balcony.

The Witcher left the doors open and the warm breeze tossed the curtains and filled the room with the scent of flowers. He sat beside her, wearing just a simple white cotton shirt that mostly left his chest exposed, with black pants. The wind played with the hunters' long white hair and Root had to smile, admiring the rugged appearance of her warrior husband.

"You're so handsome, Geralt." She said softly, letting her fingers trail over the wolf pendant on his bare chest.

"We've sure come a long way, eh? From a timid, frightened woman waking in the presence of two strangers. To a trio of lovers, mates and husbands content to share said woman."

"I was never afraid of you, Geralt." Root said, somewhat mysteriously. "Once I knew it was you that was my captor."

The Witcher turned his head. "What do you mean?"

"You're him." She replied, looking into his golden eyes. "I know that now. You're Gwynbleidd; the one who will shake the world. You're the White One my father spoke of."

"Root, you know I don't…"

"I know. I know you don't believe it. I've had my faith shaken during this time we've been through. And that's good. I've learned so much. You've taught me to question things, and look at them from various positions. Dandelion has brought me fresh perspectives too, and Vernon. Regis too. And while what I think may be different now, I've also come to see that there can be a kernal of truth in nearly everything."

Geralt nodded. "Yes, Root. But some people still are liars. Monsters included. There are those in this world who will say just about anything to further their own ends. And do you know who they prey on firstly and mostly? People like you. Simple folk with simple traditions and beliefs. And I hate to say this, but it's usually those people waving the pitchforks and torches when the pogroms come."

"Look, I don't know if I am the Gwynbleidd your legends speak of." Geralt continued, sliding his hand along her cheek. "But I do know one thing."

"What's that?" she asked, leaning into his palm.

"That I'm _your_ Gwynbleidd." He said, holding her captive with his eyes. "If you want to see me as some sort of spirit or whatever, that's your choice. But I love how you and I connect already, Root. I don't want you to change how you love me, laugh with me and talk to me because of some spiritual view. I want _my_ Root. I know you may change as years go by, we all do. But gradually, organically, like the land does over time."

Root sighed, feeling so completely in love with him. The Witcher leaned in and tasted her lips, drawing her to his mouth, and carresed her face.

"Essaeth elaine me aen woedbeanna." He whispered. "More lovely than any dryad these old eyes have ever beheld. And you are mine, Root. And…well, speaking of that."

Geralt stayed close, letting her rest on his chest.

"You're Vernon's and Regis' mate too." He said quietly. "Regis told me about what the Frost has done. So you wanted to have a baby, eh?"

Root nodded and sniffed. "I did. I was finally ready. And Vernon said he was open to it too."

"I'm so sorry, Root. I understand how you are feeling. In my own way of course." The Witcher said, stroking her shoulder.

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I don't recall if we've spoken about this before. But one of the costs of witcher mutation is the loss of fertility. The Trial of the Grasses is so toxic and so powerful that it damages our seeds. It doesn't destroy our ability to have sex, as you well know, but it does render us sterile."

"Oh, Geralt." Root said, her pine green eyes filled with love and sympathy. "Did you too want children once?"

"Once? I still do." He replied with a soft smile. "But unlike your circumstance, I made a choice. I chose power. Even undergoing further mutations to increase those powers. I was young, with a head filled with visions of the hero riding into town, a crowd cheering and a carpet of gold paying for my every expense. Still, I chose. And I have to live with that choice. But I understand your desire, Root. Especially later in life. I may look like a man of fifty or so winters, but the truth is I'm over a hundred now. I've wanted children for some time. Yennefer too but, well…"

"Yennefer cannot conceive children either?"

Geralt shook his head. "No."

"Because she's a sorceress?"

"Yeah. She too paid a price for her power."

Root turned her head and gazed out the large window next to the bed. The stars illuminated the sky like a glittering river with the light of the moon riding behind a thin veil of clouds.

"Maybe this was my price." She said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Geralt asked.

"My parents would've never met on their own would they?" She began, looking to the White Wolf. "I…what I am should never have existed. Not in this world."

"Root, now come on." Geralt said giving her a raised eyebrow.

"The Wild Hunt brought two species together from different worlds. Maybe…maybe Nature knew that it would be bad for me to have children. So…"

"Root, stop." Geralt said firmly. "I'm sorry to interrupt you but that's just garbage. Shit, Regis, why do I have to be the one to talk about this? Look, there's a human saying that I've come across and I think it fits into a variety of situations. Know what it is? Shit happens. You don't owe anyone for your existence, Root. Or anything. Yen and I chose this. You didn't. You don't have to find a way to explain it, ok? It just happened. And it doesn't make sense, and it isn't right. And it isn't some mystical thing with deeper importance. It was just Eredin being a royal fucking prick and it cost you and your family a lot. Aw, Root, I'm sorry. Don't cry. You know I'm not good at this."

Geralt hugged her.

"No, you're right. I'm…I'm sorry I'm so silly…"

"No, just…it's fine, Root. It's you. I'm sorry I was a little gruff. Hey, hey calm down. There's one more thing I need to tell you." He said. "Don't make me entrance you."

Root smiled through her tears and laughed.

"What is it, my love?" she said, meeting his lovely eyes.

"There is a silver lining to this you know." He said, wiping a tear with his thumb. "For you and for Vernon."

She searched his face, running her fingers through the white hair at his shoulders.

"Have you never wondered why in your intimate times spent with our commander friend that he's never put his cock in you? Because he knew that a pregnancy wouldn't work with the circumstances we were in. So he withheld. How the man does it is beyond me. Which is one reason I'm sort of grateful for my sterility. I can fuck all the women I want with…"

"No risk." Root gasped.

Geralt nodded and grinned. "That's right. Women love fucking a witcher. We can come in them over and over and they never have to worry about what might happen. I know you really wanted a baby, Root. So I'm not saying this to try and take that away from you. But maybe, just maybe, knowing that will help ease the pain."

She smiled up at him.

"It does help. I'm still…well, I'm still upset. I was so excited but well…what did you say before?" she asked as he helped her stand up.

"Shit happens." He replied.

"Shit. Happens." Root said.

Geralt laughed. "Curse words coming from your mouth just sound wrong. That'll take some getting used to. Come on. Let's get some dinner."


	87. Chapter 87

Chapter 87

* * *

After dinner had ended, and Valonna set about cleaning up the kitchen with Dandelion, Regis and the witchers got into a debate about history and the various wars that had been fought in the region of Kaedwen and Redania. Root, knowing that Vesemir and the others were never going to be able to match Emiel Regis' knowledge of history, smiled at her higher vampire and then retired to the upper bedroom.

"No, no I'm certain that Seltkirk's armor was lost to history, Geralt. I simply cannot believe that you've seen it. You must be mistaken." Regis said, swirling a dark brandy in a crystal snifter.

"Seen it? I wore it, old friend." Geralt said, blowing smoke as he sat in the high chair near the fireplace in the sitting room.

"Rubbish." Emiel said, waving a hand. "I mean, I've no doubt you thought it was the famous armor. But no. It cannot have been."

"Was that during the time of your memory loss, Wolf?" Lambert asked, whittling a piece of wood with a knife.

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, maybe Emiel has a point. Are you so sure it was Seltkirk's? The Dun Banner were very protective of their artifacts. Still are."

"And I hear that the guardian of the tomb asks very specific questions about that historical battle. Unless you'd been there, you wouldn't have known the answers." Vesemir said, nodding to Valonna who'd brought him a slice of berry pie. "Ah, thank you, Val."

"He wore it, Emiel." Vernon Roche said, strolling into the sitting room. "I was there too. We'd camped with the Kaedweni army long enough to know much of the history concerning the so-called lost armor of Seltkirk. Geralt answered the guardian so clearly and so fluidly that the spirit was convinced Wolf had fought in the Dun Banner himself. He gave us not only the armor and standard of hope, but the sword. Came in handy too, eh Wolf?"

"Indeed." Geralt said with a nod. "So, Regis, believe me now?"

"Oh, very well. But it's still rather, well unbelievable. What happened to it then?"

The Witcher shrugged. "Beats me. I don't remember. We had to flee after defeating Iorveth's forces and a shit storm broke out in the spirit world during one of the battles. It was a mess. Pretty sure I ditched it in a swamp somewhere."

Emiel Regis' face was a mask of shock and horror. Like that of a librarian who'd just watched someone tear pages out of a thousand year old tome and use them to wipe their ass.

"You….ditched it? A precious artifact. An heirloom of one of the greatest generals to ever walk our world…and you…ditched it? In a swamp."

"Gotcha!" Geralt said pointing at him, and the party burst out laughing.

"That's not funny!" Regis exclaimed but then shook his head and laughed too. "Sweet spirits, as Root would say. Wait. So you still have it?"

The Witcher nodded. "I do indeed. It's locked up in a secure vault where we keep artifacts of that sort."

"You have a vault full of such things?" the vampire said, his historian eyes growing wide. "I would be most pleased to see some of your collection. Would that be permissible, Master Vesemir?"

"Of course." The headmaster replied, finishing his pie. "Valonna, my dear, you make the finest desserts in all of Kaedwen, possibly the world. Ah, coffee too? You're so kind, lady."

"Shall we go down now and have a look at the armor?" Lambert asked, tucking a knife into his boot.

"Any arfifacts of the aen seidhe down fare?" Errol asked.

"I'm sure we have a few things, Speaker." Eskel said. "You coming, Vernon?"

"Maybe in a bit." The soldier replied. "I'm going to get Root's bath ready and make sure she's comfortable before we vanish into the depths of the keep."

"She lived alone in the woods for most of her life, Vern. I think she can manage a bath." Geralt said. "All right let's go guys."

"Says the man who carried her to and from the washroom at the palace." Roche replied with a smirk.

"That was different. She was sick." The Witcher grumbled, tying his hair back into a ponytail. "Whatever. See you later."

Roche rolled his eyes and set a large kettle of water on the tripod to begin boiling.

'Hey, I'm coming too." Dandelion said, following the men down the stairwell. "See ya later, Vernon."

* * *

Upstairs, Root was seated at the vanity with a candle lit beside her, running the bristles of the silver-handled hairbrush through her now shoulder-length locks. She was trying to decide if she liked her hair long, or if she should ask the barber-surgeon of their party to take the straight razor to it again. Vernon stood in the shadowed archway, admiring his wife. She was definitely more fit than she had been, what with the training she'd become engaged in. But on the whole, Root's body was sturdy, round and soft. Traits he adored.

"You know I can smell you, husband." She said sweetly, looking over to him.

Roche grinned and walked behind her, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

"Can you now?" he said, massaging her shoulders. "I must need a shower."

"Mmmm, that feels so wonderful. What's that?" she asked, looking up.

"What's what?"

"A shower. Like a rain shower?" she asked innocently.

"You've never seen a shower? Well, now I think of it, your room at the palace still had the old washtub didn't it. Really, Root? You've not ever seen a shower?"

She shook her head and he smiled.

"OK, so, yeah. It's like a rain shower but inside. There's a nozzle at the top of the stall where the water flows from and you stand beneath it and bathe. You know? Rather than having to sit in the tub. Which, let me get this water in your tub for you." He said, hoisting the large cauldron of hot water into the large wooden basin.

"Ah, so like a waterfall. An indoor waterfall." Root said, rummaging around, looking for the vial of bath oil. "When the rains were heavy, the small pool near my father's homestead would sport a tiny waterfall for a short time. It was nice to play in and cool off during the hot summer days."

The forest maiden added some of the herbal oil that Regis had made for her and slipped off the black satin robe she'd been wearing. Vernon let his eyes wander up her body, from her shorty toes and rounded ankles, strong calves and wide, soft thighs, to her heavy chest and ample hips and finally to her round face with evergreen eyes framed by dark brown hair. Root shook her breasts toward him, making the soldier growl and she giggle girlishly before stepping into the steaming hot water.

"Oy! That's hot. I'm going to look like a boiled hen." She said, settling into the large basin.

"May I, my queen?" he asked, grabbing the coral sponge and chunk of bar soap.

"Oh, Vernon, you don't need…"

"I want to." He said, rolling up his sleeves.

Root settled into the tub and let Roche wash her back and hair.

"Vernon?"

"Mhm?" he said.

"Remember what I asked you about this morning?"

"Of course." He replied, tilting her head back, pouring water over her hair.

"Well…I um, well I found out something today that will…" she sighed heavily. "See that dark mark from the White Frost?"

Vernon gently caressed her body from under the right breast, all the way down her side and around her lower back, following the mark.

"I see it. It makes me want to murder Eredin every time I do." He said, rubbing oil on his hands, kneading them into her shoulders and neck.

"I hate it too." She said quietly. "Even more so now. But, well…the Frost, um, it, it…hurt my womb. I…I can't have children."

Vernon stopped massaging, and she could feel his grip tighten as his hands unconsciously clenched. But he relaxed and smoothed them over her back as he walked around to the front and crouched by the tubs' side.

"Regis knew then? Because of your connection?" he asked, his pale blue eyes filled with love.

She nodded and sniffed as a few tears shimmered in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, my forest queen." He said, stroking her cheek. "I would avenge your honor if I could. Eredin should be glad he's stuck in his realm."

"You know what's strange?" she said as Vernon helped her stand and grabbed a towel.

"What's that?"

"I am upset that I cannot bear a child. I was ready and I wanted to. But do you know what makes me more angry?" she said as the commander dried her.

"Mhm?"

"That he stole my choice." She said hotly and with a growl.

"Hey, shhh," Roche said, wrapping her in the plush towel. "Don't shift on me or we'll have a soggy werewolf. But yes, I can definitely see your point. And to be fair, that's one point I will concede to Nilfgaardian society; they allow their women far more choice when it comes to family planning. Temeria, while wonderful in many ways, does…erm, well I guess did, lean more heavily toward the man deciding the number of children, or whether there'd be children at all. He even had the legal right to force a termination if his woman got pregnant and he didn't want it carried to term. And…well, I must admit I was influenced by those customs too at one point. But, a lot has changed since meeting you."

Root sat back on the vanity chair and Vernon dried her hair with a clean towel and began brushing out the tangles.

"Vernon, I hope you know it was never my intent to change you." She said, looking at him in the glass.

"Of course I know that." he said with a smile. "You've only been who you are, Root. And I fell in love. And I spent many long nights going over my own thoughts when I had returned to Vizima palace. I knew you were in a relationship with Regis and Geralt, and I had no idea how or if I could ever be a part of that. But I knew one thing, Root. I knew I had to try. When his majesty asked me to deliver supplies to the Witchers' camp, I knew that was my chance. I'm so glad I took it."

Root smiled. "I am too. I thought of you often, Commander Roche."

"Gods, when you say that it sounds so damn hot." He said, kissing the top of her head.

"You've lost so much though, Vernon. I…I sometimes feel like…"

"No. Don't say it. Don't say that meeting you brought this about. It didn't. Emreis had to have been planning the invasion months, if not years, before we met, Root. Quite honestly, I may be dead right now if not for you and your stay with the Witcher at the castle. I may be Commander of the Blue Stripes, an assassin and a powerful soldier but I'm just one man. I couldn't have held off an army. And, if you don't mind me saying this, Foltest had taken a liking to you as well. Not like that. But in the short time he observed you, he developed a fondness for your innocence."

"Observed me?" Root asked and Roche grinned.

"Of course. You don't think you went an entire evening in the presence of a king without being watched do you? Yes, he observed and listened carefully to what you said when within earshot. The number of times one of your replies brought a smile to his face is beyond counting."

"Because I'm silly and ignorant." She said with a frown.

"No." Roche said, but she gave him a raised eyebrow and a pout. "OK, yes, a little. But, Root, you're not stupid. You're…genuine, real. So at any rate he, like myself, found himself wanting to help you, protect you if he could. So he sent me and some men with food and other amenities to Geralt. He couldn't very well send them to you. That would've been a scandal for him to do so, but I knew. And, well I think his lordship knew of my fondness for you as well."

"Do you think he knew of the invasion, Vernon?" she asked, turning to face her husband. "Do you think he sent you away to protect you?"

Roche searched her green eyes for a moment and carressed her cheek.

"Protect me? No." he said with a shake of his head. "A soldiers' duty is to serve and give his life for his lord should the need arise. I would be furious if I ever found out Foltest sent me away from his side in order to protect me. Did he know? I don't know, Root. He may have. But I was his top intelligence agent and I didn't know about it."

Root considered her next statement carefully, but she felt that the Viziman had to know. She stood up, and rested her palms on his strong chest.

"I…I saw Nilfgaardian forces in the woods a few weeks before Geralt captured me." She said, meeting his eyes. "I didn't know they were bringing war to the land, Vernon. I swear I didn't. To the common folk living out in the wilds, they were just another group of loudly jingling men on horseback come to buy supplies, water their horses and be off to some far distant land. That's usually what happened when armored soldiers passed through the area of my old homestead. Whatever banners or colors they flew made little difference to us. Most of the people can't even read, let alone recognize livery and coats of arms. I had done some reading concerning herbs growing in the southern reaches, so I recognized the symbol of the Great Sun. I knew they were from Nilfgaard. But I promise you, my dear husband, I didn't know what would happen."

Roche smiled, leaned forward and kissed her.

"I believe you, my Root. And who would you have told anyways, had you thought to do so? You didn't know me at the time, nor Geralt. But I'm glad you told me this. It gives me insight into how they operate. It would seem Emreis works his way into the hearts of the common folk by helping to grow poor economies. Oh, I'm sure he burned a fair number of farms and razed their crops once the battle was on in earnest. But I have to hand it to him; to get that close to Vizima without anyone saying anything about it or letting word slip to one of the patrolman, is an admirable feat. It means the people were greatly benefiting from the coin being spent there and knew to keep their mouths shut. Well played, Emhyr."

"It's strange to hear you admire them." Root said quietly. "It's admirable that you can speak fairly about what they do well, without feeling like you're betraying your king and country."

"Thank you, Root." Roche said with a deep nod. "I'm not sure you realize what an extremely powerful and welcome compliment that is. There are many who saw me as a fanatic; blindly loyal to Temeria. A man who refused to acknowledge any good outside of the lily border. And to be fair, sometimes, maybe I was that man. But I always tried to do my best to be fair and just, even to my enemies. But enough military talk. The rest of our company, a good number of them at any rate, have gone down into the vaults to look at various artifacts these witchers have collected over the years. Would that interest you? Or what would you like to do this evening?"

"Let's join them." She said happily. "But first, um…there is a bit of a…well, ray of light. Concerning my womb being…ya know. It…"

Roche put his finger to her lips and smiled.

"I'm not a fool, Root." He said, holding her gaze with his lovely blues. "I understood that the moment you told me. But not tonight."

"Why not?" she asked, leaning close to his mouth. "I want you to."

The commander held her in his arms, hands clasped behind her at the small of her back, letting her feel his hard length against her.

"I know you do. And I want to as well." He said in a deep voice. "But restraint and discipline are part of a soldiers' way. You have only just discovered that this has happened to you, Root. Take some time to go through your thoughts. Heal in whatever way you can. I promise you, my queen, I will be more than happy to pleasure you another time. Soon."

Root smiled at him, adoring the gentleman patriot of Temeria that was Vernon Roche.

"Let's go see what these witchers have hidden away shall we?"


	88. Chapter 88

Chapter 88

* * *

"Well, well, I have been proven wrong indeed." Regis said, admiring the weathered and ancient armor laid out before him. "That is indeed Seltkirk's. The enchantments on it are old, but I can still sense them. See these runes that have been sewn into the cuffs? Beautiful craftsmanship."

"That's elven needlework." Errol said with a nod, holding up a sparkling chain of shimmering, clear stones. "What is this, Master Vesemir?"

The men were all together in one of the lower areas of the keep, the room lit by the glow of a roaring fire crackling away in the large stone fireplace. Geralt lit another torch from the blaze, and set it into a sconce, while Eskel and Lambert shook the dust from some of the heavy coverings on the chests and storage bins.

"That," Ves began. "belonged to the once queen of Dol Blathanna; the Valley of Flowers. Well, once upon a time when said place still had an elven queen."

"How did you come by it?" one of the sentries asked.

"That came to the Wolf School, oh ages ago now. Legend says that the queen took a human lover, and that he gifted her with that very necklace, made with Mahakam diamonds and polished with dragon fire. But according to the story, the queen was murdered. So her lover avenged her, and took the necklace as his last memory." Vesemir explained.

Errol raised an eyebrow. "But that still doesn't explain how you came by it."

The old warrior looked to the elven Speaker. "Lad, only a human who was a witcher could have a long term relationship with an elf. When he died, the men of this keep made sure to save this precious heirloom from their headmaster."

"Ah, I see. There are those among the aen seidhe who would be furious if they knew you had such an artifact here." Errol said, replacing the precious string into a jewelry box shaped like a treasure chest with a silver heart-shaped lock. "As it is, Dol Blathanna stands empty now. There hasn't been a queen among the elven people for centuries."

"Would you desire that again, Speaker?" Lambert asked.

"A queen?" Errol asked, and he reflected for a bit. "For myself, no. There are those among the folk who cling to the old ways, longing for a time like before the Conjunction. And that is their way and right. But for me and my people, we're much happier living as we do. I may be Speaker, but the adults confer with each other and make decisions jointly. I am, well as I said, the Speaker; the one who speaks for the people when a leader is called for. But it would seem we are in the presence of a queen this evening indeed. Hello, Root."

Vernon and Root walked into the room and the men turned toward the couple. She blushed and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I'm no queen." She said shyly, with Roche raising an eyebrow. "I'm not. Not really."

"Well, you're his queen at least." Vesemir said with a wink. "Come here, lass. Why don't you have a look in these trunks and see if any of these clothes suit you. I'm sure Miss Vengerberg's wardrobe is nice, but perhaps you'd like some clothing of your own."

The group spent the evening swapping old stories, and going through the various artifacts in the chests. Emiel Regis would comment on the particular history of an item whenever he knew of it, and the witchers were all too pleased to share their adventures with others, charming them all with the exciting battles and ferocious beasts that had to be slain in order to acquire the treasures within.

Root found several outfits in the trunks that she liked and which fitted her well. And while the various dresses, breeches and blouses were older, they'd been well packed and cared for and thus were almost like new. She covered her mouth and yawned, piling up her new items to take upstairs. Regis, who was listening to Geralt tell Dandelion about his conversations with a golden dragon, spied Lambert watching the forest maiden.

Emiel rose and approached the youngest of the witchers. Lambert was a lean man, lightly muscled, with dark hair and what seemed like a consistent smirk on his features. A bit of shadow played around his lip and chiseled jaw, and by all accounts he was a handsome, attractive warrior in perfect shape.

"I know what you're thinking." Regis said softly, nudging the man's shoulder. "And I don't need to read your thoughts."

Lambert grinned. "I'm just trying to work out how to attempt it. I don't want to scare her."

Regis nodded. "Well, I'm glad you mentioned that. Because, might I say, in the not so distant past you terrified her."

"Is she still afraid of me?"

"No." Regis replied. "But I wouldn't want something to happen where she gets spooked, shifts, and perhaps hurts you."

"She can't hurt me." The young witcher said with a cocksure grin.

"She broke a few of Vernon's ribs and introduced him to several birch trees the day after they met. Don't be too sure of yourself." Regis replied.

"And now he's her husband?" Lambert said, glancing at Roche. "She must really be something special."

Regis looked at his mate and Lambert saw the depth of devotion in the mans' eyes.

"She is. But never mind the drivel of this old alchemist. Root is playful and enjoys the light teasing. Just don't humiliate her."

The man nodded and approached Root as she stood up and stretched.

"Can I help bring these up?" Lambert asked, lightly touching her shoulder.

She turned and was briefly caught off guard by the friendly demeanor and kindness of the man she'd only experienced so far as being mostly withdrawn, quiet but cocky. He met her green eyes with his own gaze, which was similar to Geralt's; yet to Root it seemed a darker shade of gold, almost a burnished bronze. Lambert had seen her lose herself in a witchers' eyes before.

"I um…well…"

Lambert broke off his gaze by blinking.

"Root?" he said softly.

She blinked and looked at him, searching his face. But he only smiled back her innocently.

Vernon, who was engaged in conversation with Vesemir about their time spent in military service, noticed the exchange and paused. Ves followed the veteran's gaze. Roche narrowed his eyes and he managed to contain a snarl.

"Ah. Don't worry about Bertie. He's not after your woman." The headmaster said as Vernon looked over. "He's not going to hurt her either. He just wants to have a go at charming her."

"How do you know that?" Roche asked.

"Because I'm old." Ves said with a laugh. "It's exactly what I would've done back in my day. A curious response to certain things, such as she has, practically screams a challenge to every young man within a hundred feet."

Roche nodded but was still a little uneasy about her being alone with the witcher. He remembered well the day Lambert tried to provoke Root. But he also knew they'd all come a long way since that day in the courtyard.

Geralt clapped him on the shoulder and interrupted his thoughts.

"She'll be fine, Vern. Regis is monitoring her thoughts. Anything goes amiss and we'll know." The Witcher said.

"You know what he's up to?" Roche asked.

"Of course. He's been wanting to try since discovering her peculiar response to things."

"I seem to recall another gentleman, not that long ago, who was practically begging us to tell him about Root's fascination with…"

"All right, all right." Vernon said as Regis walked over. "I get it. I'm not jealous I'm just…watchful for her is all."

Lambert carried Root's new clothing, and the two ascended the winding staircase that led to the upper bedroom. It was a beautiful spring night, and the forest maiden's heart leapt as a flash of lightning illuminated the room and thunder rocked the castle. With a gleeful smile, she ran out onto the balcony and looked out over the valley as lightning again brought brilliance to the dark landscape below.

"Oh, isn't it just the most glorious thing in all the world!" she exclaimed, the stones vibrating beneath her hands as the thunder rolled across the mountains.

The young witcher piled the clothes up on the bed and then joined her. The warm breeze carried the scent of wildflowers and tossed her brown hair. Below, the pine forest rocked in a mild wind, and the long grass that lined the rivers' edge swayed and bowed before the breath of Nature. A few lingering deer, grazing on the fresh green of the season in the meadow, stood tall for a moment, their long ears turning this way and that as the thunder reverberated off the high walls of the Morhen valley. But then in a flash, their white tails waved farewell and they vanished into the woods.

"It is." He replied, looking into the distance. "There are few things better than a good thunderstorm. The sound of rain on the windows, the gentle rumble of thunder, the intoxicating scent of wildness that is present only after a good downpour. Tis beautiful indeed."

Root looked down toward the river, and as lightning flashed again she swore she saw a figure near the edge of the wood; the silhouette of a bow slung across the back, with the face partially concealed. Staring hard into the darkness, straining to see, the space was empty when again the lightning flashed. Lambert followed her gaze, and seeing nothing, turned to her.

"Did you…" she began, but got distracted by his gaze. "See…"

Lambert found it amusing how ridiculously easy it was to distract the werewolf. He looked deep into her eyes and leaned in close. He smelled of leather and clean linen and Root found it very hard to not just lean forward, rest her head on his chest and go to sleep.

"Do you know what I enjoy most about a good storm?" he asked quietly, not really wanting to touch her in a way that was unwelcome or spoke of feelings he didn't have.

Root blinked and again searched his face, with he masking his mischievousness under a calm exterior.

"What's that, master Lambert?" she asked, tilting her head.

He knew she was trying to work out in her mind whether or not he was trying to charm her. And he was quite proud of his display, and the fact that she'd not yet discovered his intentions. Or at least wasn't sure enough to call him out. He raised his hands and slipped off his gloves.

"When I was a boy, I would sometimes climb to the top of the highest tree in my village during a storm. Probably not the smartest thing to do, but such are the ways of little boys. I had this little nook in the boughs of an old apple tree, just big enough for a boy of eight to hide in." he said, tossing the gloves onto the ledge.

"Dreaming of being a witcher even then?" she asked, as thunder rumbled.

"Dreaming…" Lambert said softly, lingering on the word deliberately. "Yes, you could say that. I would drift off to the patter of rain on the old trunk, lulled by the scent of the apple blossoms, and the sweetness of the fruit still clinging to the stems. It wasn't a bad way to…fall asleep."

As one drop after another began their descent from the darkened sky, the stones of the balcony grew darker. And as the lightning flashed, Lambert made sure to look right into Root's deep green eyes. Her head nodded forward and he let her rest against him.

"I won't harm you." He said softly, his witcher eyes glowing in the darkness.

Lambert gently touched her forehead, lightly tapping between the eyes. Root quickly sank into a profound trance, such that Emiel Regis, still enjoying camraderie with his friends, paused a moment and monitored her thoughts.

"Too easy." The witcher said quietly with a satisfied smile.

He picked her up as the rain began to fall and placed her into the warm bed. After covering her he touched her forehead again and leaned close to her ear.

"Go to sleep." He whispered, stroking his fore and middle fingers across her brow. "And dream of apple blossoms, rain and thunder."

The faintest smile turned up the corner of her mouth as a tiny snore escaped her. Lambert closed the double glass doors to the balcony, but cracked open the bedroom window, letting in the sounds of the gentle storm that sang a quiet lullaby to the already dreaming ulfhedinn.

Regis shook his head and returned his attention to the group.

"We need to make sure not many people know about that." Geralt said, knowing exactly what Lambert was up to.

"Yeah, no kidding." Dandelion said, finishing a glass of wine. "Can you imagine if some nasty person had Root under their sway?"

"I'm supposing that's one reason why her father kept her secluded." Regis said. "Not only to hide her from the Wild Hunt, who he knew would come for her one day. But because he must've seen her responses to things as a child. Lullabies, as we well know, affect her profoundly. And what father doesn't sing to their child? When Curamil noticed her extreme suggestibility, I'm guessing he took steps to shield her from those with natural abilities to charm."

"Like vampires." Vesemir said quietly, folding some of the clothing Root did not choose for her own.

Geralt, Vernon and Dandelion all froze for the briefest of moments and were silent. Only Regis maintained composure and carried on easily.

"Indeed, sir. My goodness, can you imagine what a handsome, elder vampire could do to our dear, suggestible Root? The poor woman wouldn't stand a chance." Emiel said, with a glance to Eskel, who seemed oblivious.

"I can imagine." Ves said, nodding to him. "I've roused many a maiden from a vampire's thrall. Not an easy task either. Especially when said vampire passes perfectly for human and the lady has no reason to suspect he's anything other than a well-aged gentleman with a taste for younger women. You'll pardon the pun. It was not intended."

Dandelion's jaw was hanging agape so Vernon nudged him in the ribs and Geralt rolled his eyes. The old witcher closed the lid of the trunk and stood up, stretching his back.

"I am impressed, Master Vesemir." Emiel Regis said with genuine admiration. "In all my studies of the lore surrounding vampires of every kind, I've not once heard of a witcher being able to break an enchantment placed over a target. All of vampire society might rightly fear you."

Ves leaned against the stone fireplace and looked at the ancient man with his golden eyes.

"I'm old, Regis. Not as old as some of the eldest vampires to walk our world, but old enough to know this. There are those who pass among us, decent folk, upstanding citizens of charity and kindness, who have been here since the Conjunction of the Spheres. The way I figure it, so long as they remain so, good folk intent on living and letting live, no sum could ever be paid me to lift my hand against them."

And an understanding passed then between Vesemir, headmaster of the Wolf School, and Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, and everyone but Eskel and the elves were aware of it. The higher vampire gave the old witcher the faintest of nods.

Lambert then came striding back into the room with a very satisfied grin on his shadowed features. Geralt shook his head.

"Too easy, guys. Too easy." He said, pulling up a chair to the fireplace. "She better be grateful she's not on my hit list. I would use that against her in a heartbeat. Do you know how quickly she'd fall to a witchers' sword?"

"If a given witcher knew of her weakness, yes. I fully realize it." Geralt replied. "In fact, I used a bit of suggestion on her when I captured her for…well, that's not important."

Errol Dorren was surprised by the White Wolf's words and exchanged looks with Emiel Regis and Vernon both. Lambert and Eskel also looked surprised. Only Vesemir, who knew about how Geralt had met Root, didn't look shocked.

"You captured her?" the scarred and normally quiet Eskel asked.

"That's how you met? She was a contract of yours?" Lambert inquired. "From who? And why?"

"Lads, that's not really important." Ves said, nodding to Gwynbleidd. "How she came to be with Wolf is none of our concern. She's with him now, and so she's with us."

Geralt gave his mentor a grateful nod and everyone dropped the subject and carried on with their evening.

"What was it you were saying, Regis, about Three Jackdaws?" Dandelion asked. "I hear there's more to that man than meet's the eye."

"That's true of many men, master Dandelion." Emiel Regis said, with a glance to Vesemir.

"And women." Roche added. "Don't forget; a werewolf sleeps upstairs."


	89. Chapter 89

Chapter 89

* * *

Later, Vesemir would find himself in the grand library, flipping through the pages of an old tome on werewolves. In particular, he was looking at the diagrams of the ulfhedinn breed, and noting how Root's wolf form, while markedly that of the northern, Skellige werewolves, was also distinctly different. She was stockier, and more heavily furred than others of the species, with a far more lupine face. Ves remembered well a tough fight he'd had with one of the bluish, steel colored brutes, and how he could tell that beneath the bestial form was still a man. But with Root, he noted that when she shifted, she was far more wolf than woman.

"What are you, my dear?" he muttered, turning the yellowed page.

Emiel Regis joined the headmaster then, and leaned against the table he was seated at.

"The others have gone off to bed?" Ves asked, nodding to a chair. "Or still waxing nostalgic about days of old down in that cellar?"

Regis smiled with his usual pursed lips and sat down, folding his hands.

"They're all playing Barrel in the kitchen. Root is still asleep. And I thought I'd join you for a moment or two. If you didn't mind that is."

"Not at all, Emiel." Vesemir said, laying the book flat and looking up.

"When did you know?" Regis asked.

The old witcher raised an eyebrow, tilted his head and took a long drink from a leather stein.

"Immediately." The vampire confirmed with a nod. "I see my act of being human has some flaws I need to work out yet."

"Perhaps not." Ves said with a slight smile. "Lambert and Eskel have no idea. And I wager Geralt didn't know when you first met him?"

Emiel nodded. "He did not. Although he worked it out soon enough. He did have more opportunity to see things that would unmask me though. Immunity to fire being only one."

"I see. There are things I notice that those young men just don't think about. The way you position yourself in a room, how you sit, your proximity to others. Bertie and the younger generations are always looking for tell-tale signs. The eye-shine, for example. Missing shadows, no reflections and the like. They often miss the lessons of more subtle give-aways."

"If I may inquire," Emiel began. "Why did you not reveal me? You put my Root into chains for being what she is. Yet you allowed me to roam freely. Why?"

Vesemir leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his grey hair.

"She was the more obvious and pressing threat for starters. Charging through the gate in full-on beast form. And I had no idea if anyone in the party that came riding into the keep with her knew about you. I had to consider that if I revealed you, you may have retaliated. And I'm no fool, Regis. You're powerful. Old. And could kill all of us in a blink."

Emiel Regis couldn't help but smile at the compliment, even as the thought of doing something so monstrous was abhorrent to him.

"So I decided to play the long game. I figured, and counted on, that you wouldn't want to be revealed, and thus wouldn't do anything to encourage that. Like prey upon the members of your party. I knew then that the others were reasonably safe within these walls so long as I treated you like the human you wished to pass for. I am impressed though. Dandelion normally blunders right into saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. And yet not once has he slipped up."

Regis chuckled. "When Vernon first joined our group there was a time or two that he almost blundered into just that."

"Ah, so he knows too does he?" Ves said with a nod. "How'd he take it?"

"Rather well actually. But that's more because he, like Geralt, witnessed things that were, well, convincing shall we say?"

"Ah. The incident at Vizima palace." The headmaster replied. "Yes, Geralt shared much of that with me shortly after you all arrived. Leaving out choice details, especially concerning Vernon Roche. So you had a hand in capturing this Arklan aen Caem was it?"

"Some what. I destroyed the artifact he was using to enspell King Foltest, the guards and many of the palaces' residents. But it was Roche who clapped the man in irons. But later, it was I who interrogated the man while he was in my power. Vernon witnessed that. Hard not to figure something more than human is going on when you see things like that."

Vesemir nodded and was silent for a time. Thinking. And then he smiled.

"Well, now we know why Root adores you so much." The old witcher said.

Regis laughed lightly. "Partially, yes. But of course our bond is much deeper than that. Everyone has their odd little things they like. Hers is just…well, you've seen. She wouldn't be the first to have fantasies about my kind and our powers."

"No." Ves said with a grin. "She wouldn't be. We witchers have a similar aura surrounding us as well. As I'm sure you're aware."

"Indeed. It is a slight frustration for my dear Root when she remembers that Geralt cannot use the axii sign on her. Nor somne."

"Yes, he mentioned that she is warded. That's your doing?"

Regis nodded. "Indeed. You'll forgive me if I keep the details of that to myself. It is a union that goes beyond words and very intimate."

"Fair enough." The old man said. "Do the elves know?"

"No. Well, perhaps I should rephrase that. I am not aware of them being aware of me. If they are, they are hiding it rather well. However, I am fairly confident that they don't know. They've lived rather secluded lives and while their lore may speak of higher vampires, I doubt it's accurate."

"Most lore books are not accurate when it comes to the higher classes of vampire." Ves said with a roll of his eyes.

Regis paused a moment. Then said. "Are _your_ books? Accurate, that is?"

"Afraid I've been taking notes?" he said, leaning forward.

"To be honest, yes. I may have done my kind a great disservice by coming here. Something Vernon had mentioned to us one night around the campfire, and warned Geralt about."

"That commander is a brilliant man." Vesemir said, rising from the table. "But no, Emiel. I have not been recording my observations. Higher vampires are not like true monsters. Not really. Like humans, each one is an individual with different motives, values, beliefs and other such traits. There may be some commonality between them as far as unique powers, but they aren't…easily classified like say berserkers, or even werewolves for that matter. Speaking of which, have you any idea why Root looks so different than other ulfhedinns?"

The old vampire shook his head. "I don't know. Although remember, she is only part werewolf. Perhaps the changing trait, as it has been passed onto her, was more lupine in its nature than the curse her father suffered from. Scholars have debated what to call these traits that seem to get passed on through the blood from parent to child. But no consensus has been reached yet. Not that I'm aware of. But then I've been quite removed from academic circles for some time. Whatever makes a person cursed with lycanthropy wolf-like, perhaps gets carried on in the blood as something different. Different application, different manifestation."

"Perhaps. Ahh, but that is for far wiser men than me with much more time on their hands to think about. What say we join them for a few rounds of Barrel? I reckon someone your age has to let them win from time to time, eh?"

"Alas, no. Geralt is the master player of Barrel in our group. He learned from the best after all. Do go on ahead and join them. I'd like to check on Root. And thank you, master Vesemir. For your discreetness and courtesy. It is warmly appreciated." Regis said with a regal bow and gracious nod.

Vesemir returned the nod and headed off toward the kitchen, while Emiel Regis silently made his way toward their upper room.


	90. Chapter 90

Chapter 90

* * *

When Regis walked into the upper bedroom, he did not expect to see an awakened Root leaning on one of the opened glass doors leading to the balcony. The gentle storm was still dropping silvery curtains of rain across the valley, and a lovely spring breeze cooled the room and made the candlelight flicker on the old, weathered stones. The woman was twirling a piece of her long hair, curling it this way and that, and Emiel could tell she was fidgeting, nervous.

"You're awake, my dear." He said softly, parting her hair and kissing the back of her neck. "I didn't expect that."

Root turned and blushed as she smiled up at him.

"Lambert…he…" she began, and flushed even deeper.

"Yes, we know what Lambert was up to. You're not embarrassed are you?"

"No, no. I know it's, weird. My reaction that is. I kind of figured one of them would try after our conversation that night. He was very good at hiding his intentions though." She replied.

"You are well protected, darling. From magical influences. But against suggestion I'm afraid I've no remedy or defense for you. Other than, around strangers, you should perhaps be more wary of certain looks they give you, or words they say. But enough of that. It's all in good fun here. I can see though that something troubles you. You fidget like that when you're falling asleep, or when your thoughts are disturbed. What is it?" he asked with a warm, inviting smile.

Root looked out into the valley as lightning illuminated the sky; a finger of electricity dancing across the deep violet clouds, splintering the night with a moment of brightness.

"I'm sure I saw an old friend standing down by the river tonight. Just before…well, you know. I haven't seen him in a few years now and I just hope he's alright. I'm sure he's had to flee the Temerian woodlands. I just don't know what would bring him here." She replied.

Vernon Roche was heading up the stairs just then and could hear the couple talking.

"Who is this friend?" Regis asked of the forest maiden.

"His name is Iorveth."

Roche froze.

"He was the leader of the elven group I lived with for a time. It was from him that I learned hen ilinge. And he taught me much of their herb lore." She continued. "I mean I'm sure he's found shelter and what not for he and his people. But he seemed alone when I swear I saw him standing by the riverbank."

"Elves that don't want to be seen might as well be invisible, Root." Vernon said, walking into the room.

The couple turned, and Root was confused by the definite edge in Roche's voice, and even more stunned by the veiled, dangerous look in his eyes. She'd seen that look before; in the dungeon with Arklan aen Caem.

"That is true, my Commander." She said softly. "What troubles you, love?"

"That there could be a squad of Scoia'tael down in those woods." He replied, leaning on the opposite door. "If you saw him, it's for a reason. He _wanted_ you to see him."

"Are you suggesting that this Iorveth knows Root is here?" Regis asked.

"I think we have to consider it."

"True. But it could be a coincidence as well. He may have had to flee Temeria for the same reason you've had to. And perhaps, like us, he's found himself in this valley and just saw her from a distance."

"You know him." Root said quietly.

Roche nodded. "I do. And…"

"And what?" she pressed.

"Look…not right now." The commander of the Blue Stripes said and smiled, unmasking his eyes, looking at her with love. "We don't know who it was, right? Let's not worry about it. I didn't think you'd be awake. I was just coming up to check on you."

Root didn't want to let it go. But she knew the men of her party really disliked it when she would argue and fuss about things so she nodded.

"I'm alright, my love. I must admit, I'm surprised it was Lambert who wanted to…erm, I don't really know what to call it. Play? That sounds more intimate than I'd like it to." She said shyly.

"It's a fine word, my dear." Regis said. "We all enjoy our time spent with you. Each in our own ways. As I'm sure you enjoy each of us for different reasons, yes? Of course you do. Now come inside, the rain is getting heavier."

"It's very late, Root. The rest of the keep has gone to bed, and morning is only a few hours away. Were you heading back to bed?" Vernon asked, stoking up the bedroom fireplace a bit.

Emiel Regis closed up the balcony as another peal of thunder rocked the keep and rattled the crystalline windows. The wind picked up in earnest then and spattered the panes with rain, so Root closed the window close to the bed as well.

"Maybe in a bit. I slept for a few hours so I'm sort of awake right now." She said, tucking her feet into a pair of black, furry slippers. "I think I'll head down to the kitchen and see what I can rustle up for something to…eat. Oh…Regis…um…"

The vampire nodded and Vernon politely left the room, jogging down the stairwell, passing Geralt who was heading up.

"Night, Roche." The Witcher said with a yawn.

"Wolf."

Geralt walked into the room just as Root was licking her lips, dabbing away a tiny drop of Regis' blood.

"Just a short one, my dear. No, don't pout at me like that. You know why you can only have a little. You had a longer feed earlier." He said, lightly tracing the corner of her mouth.

The White Wolf grinned as he slipped off his shirt, revealing his glorious, scarred body, and pulled the tie from his long, milk white hair.

"Still hungry, Root?" he asked, sitting on the bedside next to her.

She nodded and he held his hand out to her.

"Oh and hey, let's try this." He said, and produced the somne sign amulet that he'd enchanted that night around the table from his pocket, while lacing fingers with her.

Root began the energy draw and sighed, looking up at her witcher husband with adoring eyes. His vitality coursed into her, filling her veins with what felt like bolts of lightning from the storm outside. And his palm tingled in that curious way as she fed from him. Regis slipped the amulet over Root's head as she released Geralt's hand.

"Mmm, you both taste so amazingly delicious." She said, shaking her fingers of any residual energy. "Are you feeling alright, Geralt? Not too much was it?"

"I'm fine, Root. I would say you've mastered feeding from others. Don't you think so?"

She looked to Regis for confirmation and he nodded.

"I think so long as you're reasonably satiated and not overly hungry, yes. We may have to conduct some tests to see how your control is when you are very hungry, and perhaps even slightly starved. But that can perhaps wait until we have a home of our own, yes? No reason to have an overly hungry Aurem Lumen wandering about."

"Aurem Lumen?" Geralt asked, watching to see if Root was responding at all to the amulet. "What's that?"

"Golden Glow." Regis replied. "It's the term I created for Root's vampire species."

"Well, it's my mother's, really." She replied, toying with the cloth amulet. "And with my father's blood, I'm…I'm really kind of a mutt aren't I?"

"Root, no." Emiel said softly. "You're a mix of beautiful hertiages, including my own, thank you very much. Mutt, indeed. How are you feeling?"

"I don't think this is working." She said with a slight pout.

"Well, further proof that my shielding protects you even from spells introduced through indirect means." The vampire said with a satisfied smirk. "And one day, scholars will learn more about your kind as we learn and grow together."

"But why, Regis?" Geralt asked as Root nestled up to Regis' chest. "Won't telling them about her encourage things like hunting and capture?"

Emiel raised an eyebrow. "Says the witcher."

Geralt fell silent and looked away.

"As a wise man once told me, and I quote, "Some monsters still need killing." And I quite agree. Our Root may be harmless, the daughter of a simple woodsman who happened to be cursed with lycanthropy. But there may come a day when perhaps more of her kind come through to our world who are not so friendly. It will benefit scholars and witchers too, yes, to know about the traits of her unique species. And if they are friendly, again, it will be a boon to know more about them." Regis said patiently.

Gwynbleidd nodded. "True. So, what'd ole Ves have to say about you?"

"He's known since the day we arrived." Regis said, and paused. "No, my dear. I cannot allow it. Distract your thoughts, it'll get better. What was I saying? Ah, yes. He knew but didn't reveal me for fear I might retaliate. I would do no such thing, naturally, but I understand why a man of his profession would think so. And, as he rightly pointed out, the werewolf charging into the keep was the far more obvious and pressing threat."

"That old man still amazes me with his instincts and skill." Geralt said, pulling the blanket up over Root's shoulder, watching her fingers curl lazily in Regis' lap as she rested against the ancient vampire. "Well, put it this way, Regis. There's no older witcher in all the world. So I doubt anyone else would discover you."

"After this experience, I've learned I cannot count on my ability to hide much longer. I've lived a rather secluded life over these past five hundred years. Much of it spent among common folk who wouldn't know what to look for. Not really. So much of their lore is…" he smiled as Root's fingers grew still and her body heavy. "Superstitious nonsense, as you well know. I'm glad she fell asleep just then. I don't like saying those things in front of her."

"She takes it well." Geralt said, yawning and scratching the silvery stubble under his chin. "Root is open to learning. Unlike many people stuck in their ways."

"I know she does. Hello, Vernon." Regis said as the Temerian walked into the room.

"Oh, she fell asleep did she?" he said quietly. "Probably for the better. We need to talk about Iorveth."

"What?" Geralt asked, confused.

"Root thinks she saw the elf Iorveth, an old friend, down by the river earlier this evening." Regis said, touching her forehead. "There, she won't wake nor hear us now. You may speak freely, gentleman."

"She knows Iorveth?" Geralt asked, glancing out the window, as if expecting an aen seidhe commando to come through the glass.

"It would seem so." The vampire replied.

"Do you know who he is, Regis?" Roche asked, pulling up a chair.

"Of course. Hero to some, terrorist to others. All in one's perspective I suppose. Where do you come down as far as he's concerned?"

"Murderer. Racial agitator. Dogmatic and bloodthirsty." Vernon replied, no longer hiding his absolute hatred for the elf who was his nemesis. "If he's down in those woods, we need to drive him out. Kill him if necessary."

" _Is_ it necessary? Killing him?" Emiel asked.

"What's this about, Roche? Look, I know why you hate him. We fought against he and his people several times. But in the end, remember we…"

"I remember, Wolf." Roche snarled, his blue eyes blazing. "He's an enemy to Temeria and has murdered countless numbers of my countrymen. And there's this too. Only two people that we know of know where Root is. Where I am. And suddenly the person, who is my worst enemy, shows up in the same valley? That's no coincidence."

"That's a very compelling point, Vernon." Regis said with a nod. "But why let Root see? Surely if he was after her, or yourself, he would've concealed himself for as long as possible."

"Perhaps for the same reason as Cahir Mawr. To get close." Roche said.

"I doubt the Imperator would foolishly try the same tactic again, Vernon." Geralt replied.

The Viziman had to concede that point. Remembering well the message he'd sent to the emperor of Nilfgaard in the form of a lily pomeled dirk.

"Root said he is her friend." Regis replied after a time. "Perhaps he simply wanted to check on her."

"She has terrible taste in friends if he is so." Roche growled.

"Vernon Roche, that is immensely unkind. To her and to us." Emiel said softly. "She is our dear friend, and yours. Your wife. _Our_ wife."

"I'm…sorry." He said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I just…I can't bear the thought that he's out there, with us in here not knowing why. I can just see his arrogant, smug face. What does he want?"

"We don't know, Vern. Calm down." Geralt said. "I get it. You hate him. Got it. Let's just go down and ask him. All of us. There's no way he's foolish enough to attack all of us at once. And who knows, maybe he's had a change of heart."

"I fucking doubt it." The commander muttered. "Fine. But so help me, if I sense any trouble or anything amiss, he's going down."

"Vernon, don't be a fool. He's not alone. You know his men will be in the woods with bows at the ready. I'm sure our Root would prefer her Commander of the Blue Stripes live to a good, ripe old age rather than die in a blaze of anger battling an old enemy."

Roche sighed and looked up, beholding the sleeping woman's face as she rested against Emiel Regis. And in that moment, he remembered that it wasn't that long ago that he had a change of heart. He reached forward and stroked her cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

"For her. I'll even tolerate my worst enemy." He said quietly. "Alright. We'll go down to the river tomorrow and see what he wants."


	91. Chapter 91

Chapter 91 (bit of a long one, but an important moment. hang in there, readers! and thank you for following! we're almost to the end, but not yet.)

* * *

The next morning, as the spring time sun rose into the sky, Root slid quietly from the bed, hoping not to disturb Geralt, and sat on the cushioned stool in front of the mirror. Looking one way and then the other, she pulled all of her hair up and wrapped it into a ponytail with a piece of leather lacing, leaving a few brown tendrils to curl about her face. The Witcher rolled over and opened his eyes. The forest maiden wasn't nearly as bulky as she'd been when they'd first met. Her body had become toned from training, and she'd definitely lost weight. Yet her frame was that of a sturdy woman of the North, with wide, ample hips, generous breasts, and a round face. Of course he had no idea what her mother or father would've looked like, but it was a sure bet that her father had been from Skellige and passed onto his daughter the heartiness of those mighty peoples.

"I like the longer hair." Geralt said softly.

Root turned shyly, toying with the end of the ponytail as she smiled.

"It's kind of a bother to keep clean. Which is why I kept it short all these years. But I could get used to it. I hope I didn't wake you." She said, padding over to the bed to sit next to him.

"Nah." He said, running his hand over her bare lower back. "Where are you off to?"

"Just down to the river. I thought I saw someone I know last night. I want to make sure he's alright."

Geralt wasn't sure if he should tell her about the conversation he'd had with her other mates the night before, so he just nodded and smiled.

"Want me to come with?" he asked.

"Don't think a werewolf girl can handle herself?" Root replied playfully, leaning over him, letting her breasts brush his chest and her lips linger on his.

The White Wolf growled and his witcher eyes smouldered. Root laughed sweetly, kissed his nose and jumped up from the bedside.

"I'll be fine, Gwynbleidd. See you later!" she called and went down the stairwell.

* * *

As dawn broke over the woods and meadows of the Morhen valley, the soft sound of a flute drifted through the still damp, post-storm air. Haunting, touching, and amazingly filled with life, love and sadness all at once, the music floated through the forest. Root, dressed in a pair of soft doeskin pants and a white cotton shirt, wandered barefoot along the river, following the sound. Her movements were noted by several pairs of keen eyes concealed in the trees and shadows. After a short distance, she crossed at a shallow part and followed the music into the woods. The sunshine of early morning hardly brought much light to the woodland realm, and so everything was a gorgeous deep green with shades of pale gold as light wheeled through the canopy above.

Ahead, she saw a figure standing on a fallen tree dressed in mismatched leathers of brown and dark green, with a flute raised to his lips and delicate fingers dancing over the tiny holes. Root smiled, happy to see that it was indeed her friend and looked up at him, patiently waiting for the aen seidhe to finish. The last notes drifted into the treetops, and a red squirrel erupted into chirps and chattering as if in applause. He lowered the instrument and smiled, turning his one good eye to the woman below, the other being concealed under the red bandana he always wore to cover his head and useless right eye.

"Ceadmil, feainnebleidd." He said in a lilting voice, slipping the flute into a soft pouch. "I hoped you would come for a visit."

"Iorveth!" she exclaimed happily, embracing him as the elf leapt down from his perch.

The aen seidhe laughed and hugged her warmly.

"Ahh it is good to see you, Root. So the word around Temeria was correct. There is a werewolf in the woods of the Kaedweni mountains. Terrorizing the locals, eh?" he said with a smirk.

Root shook her head. "Of course not! I'm here with my friends and family. It's a long, long story. How are you? It's been years, Iorveth. Oh, you should see my friend Errol's bows! They're from Brokilon and very much like those your people carry. Seeing them made me think of you."

"Errol Dorren? Of the Bald Mountain clan?" the elf asked, motioning her to sit with him by the small fire lit in front of a simple windbreak.

"Yes! You know him?"

"Of course." The elf replied, dropping some berries and bark into a kettle of boiling water. "A few of his people joined up with us. Good folk. Strong in the ways of the hunt. I know the weapons of which you speak. Errol carries two of the most powerful bows known to our people. Gifts from the dryads of Brokilon. Though he's far too humble to mention it to anyone."

Root smiled. "You're right. He never told me that. But, well he and I didn't exactly start off as the best of friends."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he didn't take it too well when he discovered I'm ulfhedinn. But that's all over now. It's been such a strange, long journey for me these past few months. I wouldn't even know where to begin. What brings you to the witchers' valley?"

Iorveth gave her a sideways look and a smile. "Witchers' valley, eh? So has the White Wolf laid claim to these lands? Or is Vesemir going to war with the Kaedweni army?"

"Well, I don't know." She said with a shrug. "Geralt grew up here and says he knows every rock and stone by heart. And Master Vesemir has become a very dear friend."

"My goodness you have been busy." He replied, pouring tea into a wooden cup for her. "The Root I knew would've had no idea who Geralt of Rivia was, let alone Vesemir of the Wolf School."

Root blushed and looked down as she sipped her tea. Iorveth noted the response and was silent for a bit, enjoying the elderberry herbal. The forest around them came alive as shafts of sunlight illuminated the ground, birds sang and all seemed right with the world.

"Root." Iorveth began softly. "I know what happened in Vizima."

She gazed at him with her pine green eyes.

"I know you're mated with Gwynbleidd and the man Emiel Regis. I know Foltest was fond of you, though he only knew you but a short time. And I know he sent Commander Roche to you with supplies a short while after the incident."

Root was silent, amazed by the skill and stealth of the elven man seated with her.

"I know what they did to Foltest. And I watched Vizima burn on the night Emhyr var Emreis conquered it. My spies have since told me that the White Flame no longer seeks the death of Vernon Roche. And that…" he paused and looked at her with his one good eye. "He is here. With you."

Root could see Iorveth's jaw tighten and a darkness shadow his almond colored eyes. It was a look of pure, barely concealed hatred.

"Do…do you seek his death, Iorveth?" she asked quietly, a shiver of fear passing through her.

"More than anything else in this world." He answered in a whisper.

"Why?"

"That dho'ine has killed more of my people than any human soldier. Ever. Something I'm sure fills him with pride. He is the only commander of the North I've not defeated. And I will."

Root of course knew some of Roche's past, and she believed the leader of the Blue Stripes when he said he had never killed non-combatants. So Iorveth's story puzzled her.

"Iorveth, I'm so sorry. I don't understand the ways of warfare, kings and the struggle between aen seidhe and humanity. But…the man I've come to know and love wouldn't kill innocents. He…"

"Love? Did you just say love?" the elf asked, narrowing his eye.

"I…yes. I have three mates. Commander Roche is my third husband."

Iorveth looked at her a long time before turning his gaze outward into the forest.

"I'm sure he believes his reasons to be justified. Who doesn't? I am branded a terrorist for wanting to feed and shelter my people. So be it. My folk need to eat. If a human gets in the way of that, well, one less dho'ine. It's not my concern. As for innocents. Well, I'm sure in Roche's perverse mind there's no such thing as an innocent elf."

Root noticed for the first time then that Ioveth's sash was decorated with blood stained patches representing several different kingdoms, each bearing the insignia of the country their once owners had come from. They'd always been there, of course, but they had meant nothing to her back when she lived in the woods, isolated from nearly everyone. And there, right at the center of the sash, were the three lilies of Temeria, with an open space next to it.

"Iorveth." She began softly, and he looked over to her. "What are you doing here?"

He smiled. "I wanted to see you. But…it grieves me, luned bleidd, that you have thrown your lot in with a human who would kill you for being a werewolf."

"But he doesn't want to kill me." She replied. "Vernon knows who and what I am. In fact, it was Errol Dorren who hated me the most at first."

The elf nodded. "A fair point. Still, I wager Dorren had a reason."

"Iorveth, are you telling me elves never gave Commander Roche a reason to retaliate? That he just stormed your woods and slaughtered elves?"

"Would you believe me if I said yes?" he responded.

"I…I don't know."

"He killed Isengrim, you know." Iorveth said calmly. "Assassinated in his sleep. Not face to face like a soldier. Under cover of darkness with a blade through the heart. One of my best friends and fighters for our cause. You would love such a man as that?"

"Iorveth, I…"

"What have these people done to you, Root?" the elf continued, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. "You are wild and free, daughter of mighty Curamil. A child of Nature and the forest. And here you are. In a keep filled with witchers who would hunt you down, a soldier who's killed people you knew and numbered as friends, and spirits know what else."

* * *

Emiel Regis monitored the forest maiden's thoughts as he watched the exchange, invisible and unknown to all. Nearby, but out of sight, were Geralt and Vernon. The vampire had to admit that Iorveth's words pained him a little. And he knew too if Geralt heard them that he'd begin a new cycle of eating himself up with guilt.

* * *

"Essaeth thaesse." He whispered, looking at her with sorrow. "You've been shut up; caged. Can you not see that?"

Root took his hand and smiled.

"My friend and mentor, it is not so. My life is different, yes. But you should see the changes I've seen in these men. None of which came about because I fought with them, or lectured them. I had to show them I meant well, and was kind. And I have. It wasn't easy, I grant you that. But I've learned a lot too. There is much wonder and merriment, joy and beauty that all of us have to share with each other, Iorveth. I stay with these men because I love them."

"And me?" the elf asked, squeezing her hand. "What about our friendship? You know I can't call a dh'oine friend. I would be betraying all my people. All their spilled blood would be for nothing. Would you turn your back on those who gave you aid and shelter when you needed it?"

Root felt like the elf had slapped her and she jerked, stunned by his sharp words as tears stung her eyes.

"Iorveth, I…of course I grieve for the aen seidhe and all those who have died because of hatred. But…you're wrong to hate all humans in return. Can't you see that? Don't become them, Iorveth. You have the light of the earth within you. You can teach them, us, so much. I will never forget your kindness. Not ever."

"Humans don't want to learn, Root." He said, drawing his hand away from hers. "You may have been fooled and tamed by these people. But I never will be. I had hoped to find you here, and I wanted to make sure you were safe. But it's clear that you've been either en-spelled or otherwise controlled into believing their lies. So I'm afraid I must do what I must for your own good. To save you."

Confused Root squealed as several pairs of hands grabbed her and she felt cold silver touch her neck as a cord was pulled tight.

 _Regis!_ She thought to her vampire mate, but there was no need.

In a blink, the ancient man materialized before their very eyes and did something he rarely did in front of anyone. Emiel Regis bared his fangs. Iorveth and the small group of elves all retreated several steps before the power that flowed from the elder vampire. Root's hands burned as she grabbed the silver cord and unwound it from her neck, throwing it to the ground.

"Stay behind me, Root." Emiel said, warily eyeing the elves, and looking at Iorveth. "Essaeth an'givare aep Deithwen. I can still smell him on you."

"What?!" Root said in alarm.

Iorveth's brown eye burned, but he was wise enough to know he and his men were no match for the power that stood before them. He motioned for them to stand down.

"What did he offer you?" Regis asked quietly. "Why are you _really_ here?"

"Peace. In exchange for my help in capturing Root." Iorveth replied, folding his arms, his good eye drifting to where his mighty re-curve bow rested against the log seat by the fire. "Well, now we know who's responsible for addling her mind. You disgusting fiend. Another wretched abomination that came to our world via the Conjunction. You and the filthy dh'oine!"

"Iorveth, no! You're wrong. I love Regis with all my heart. Truly. Why would you do this? You're my friend!" the forest maiden cried.

"And you were my friend until you threw your lot in with the humans, Root!" the elf roared back at her, his one good eye blazing. "You say you're mated with the man who has killed hundreds of my people! Burned our villages, murdered our children, hung our women from the trees and flayed them as a warning to others of what was coming should they be caught! And this!? A vampire!? How unnatural you have become. Your father must be sick thinking about you in the afterlife."

Root stumbled backwards, unbelieving the words that flowed from her friend.

"Why does the Imperator want her?" Regis asked in a deadly calm voice, drawing the elf's gaze to himself.

"Because he wants me." Roche said, striding out of the forest shadows with the White Wolf, Errol Dorren, Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir himself just behind him.

Iorveth's men looked to their leader but he motioned for them to remain where they were. The leader of the greatest elven commando of Scoia'tael stood his ground and stepped forward, his face and jaw set, a look of pure disgust and hatred burning in his gaze.

"You." The elf said and spat.

"I gave Emreis quite the warning when last I saw him. Why did he send you?" Vernon asked, standing in a line with the warriors.

"Because I approached him."

"Iorveth, how could you?" Root cried. "He burned Temeria! Our homeland! And he's a human. Why would you approach him if you hate them so much?"

"Because I had hoped to deliver him something he wants, and at the same time rescue something precious to me. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that. And you are precious to me, Root. You're confused and caged by these men and their human-tainted ideologies. I would see you free. Wild and untamed! As your father was and you used to be. I mean look at you! Dressed in human clothing? The forest spirit I knew never wore clothes and was proud of her bristling, beautiful wolf form. You're not yourself, Root. You belong with us!"

Geralt sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment, feeling the nibbling, gnawing guilt begin to chew its way through his thoughts.

"And you call it Temeria now is it? Since when do you recognize kingdoms and claims?" the elf continued. "You see what they've done to you?"

"That's enough, Iorveth!" Roche barked. "No one here has forced Root into anything. Take your propaganda and emotionally laden bullshit elsewhere. So the emperor was willing to just let things be, but you had to go and approach him. You fucking son of bitch! You had to stir the pot didn't you? You're a piece of shit! How many more elves, humans, dwarves and others have to die for your crazy campaign, huh? Freedom? Vizima was the most free kingdom in the North! No, we weren't perfect. Fucking excuse us for trying."

"Trying isn't good enough when my people are starving, Roche! You gods damned whoreson! You built your city on top of the ruins of my people! Our tombs and dead lie beneath those walls and city streets! We built it's foundations with our blood, sweat and tears. And you filthy dh'oine live there like kings, while we live in the ghettos! In squalor, desperately trying to find work. Scared someone may kill us for our ears! You call that free do you?! A'baeth aep arse! Kill him! Kill them all! Spar'le!"

A moment of panic seized Root as time seemed to slow around her. The witchers all drew their steel weapons as elven Squirrels charged forward. Vernon Roche leapt toward Iorveth and the two clashed, exchanging mighty blows. The werewolf was stunned and near blinded by her tears. Looking up then, she saw an archer perched in a tree above where Roche and Iorveth were battling. The aen seidhe drew back the string, a barbed arrow dripping with a slick, black substance at the ready. Regis dispatched one of the elves easily and checking her thoughts, turned with wide eyes.

"Root, no!" he cried.

The woman leapt between Iorveth and Vernon, parting the two for a moment. She paused and looked up into the blue eyes of her commander.

"Stop! Pl…"

Root's body jerked forward as she fell onto his chest and he was horrified to see the fletching sticking out of her back, lodged just underneath the right shoulder blade. Errol Dorren whirled and loosed an arrow at the archer, stapling them to the tree trunk, dead. Iorveth backed away and raised his hands in defeat as the last of his squad were dispatched by the White Wolf and his brother witchers.

"Root…no. Regis!" Roche called and the healer was by his side as he eased her to the ground.

The woman shook violently as the poison flowed through her body, causing froth to form on her lips. Her eyes rolled as she spasmed.

"Gods, no. Silver arrow. Shit. We have to get it out. It's burning her and the poison is killing her. Hold her still. I have to punch it through. Now!"

Regis shoved the arrow through until it breached the skin, puncturing the side of her right breast, and snapped off the barbed head, pulling the shaft out of the entry and exit points. Her scream of agony carried through all of the forest and Geralt turned, horrified by the sound.

"Pressure! Put pressure on her chest, Vernon. Root? Root, listen…"

The woman's breathing became shallow and she wheezed as blood spattered her lips. She raised her hand and touched Emiel's face.

"Regis!" Geralt yelled.

"I…it won't heal that. Root, listen just…try to focus on me."

Her pine green eyes looked up to Vernon Roche and she smiled weakly.

"You're…alive…" she croaked.

"You took that arrow for me? You…silly, silly woman…"

"I…love…you all." She said, and her eyes drifted forward and she looked at Iorveth.

The aen seidhe looked terrible, wrathful, and had murderous intent in his one good eye, although he was currently subdued by four witchers of the Wolf School armed with steel and a fellow elf wielding a legendary dryadic shortbow.

"You too threw your lot in with these dh'oine?" Iorveth spat at Errol. "They'll turn on you. One day. You'll see."

"The only thing I see right now is the visage of a man I could've become not that long ago, my brother. I understand how you feel. I do. But this isn't the way forward, Iorveth. Root helped me see that."

Iorveth snorted. "She's a tamed wolf now. Might as well be a lap…"

Root extended a hand toward the aen seidhe leader and he felt his throat constrict. With a wide eye he looked at her, but was unable to move. Confused, Vesemir looked at Geralt, who looked back at Regis, Roche and Root. The aurem lumen pulled energy from the elven man so quickly and it filled her body with such luminescence, that the golden light they were used to seeing when she fed was tinged with a shade of green. The wound on her chest erupted into light, as if it were shining from within her body and the rays shimmered on Regis' and Vernon's faces like sunlight upon water.

Iorveth fell to his knees, gasping, but no one moved to help him. Instead, the group watched as a tiny globe of pale green light rose from his mouth and drifted into Root's outstretched hand. The elf then collapsed, lifeless. Root lay still for a time, radiating a golden-green aura from her now flawless, healed skin.

"Root?" Vernon said softly.

She opened her eyes and looked into his handsome face and smiled.

"Dubhenn haern am glândeal, morc'h am fhean aiesin." She uttered softly in perfect hen ilinge, and Errol translated.

"My glare will pierce through darkness, my brightness will scatter the shadow." He said, knowing well those very words.

"Va'esse deireádh aep eigean, va'esse eigh faidh'ar."

"Something ends; something begins."

"What?" Roche said, glancing up at Errol. "What do you mean something ends? What's ending? Root?"

"Iorveth's movement…has ended." She said quietly. "He was the last of their leaders since the Iron Wolf, Isengrim Faoiltiarna, had fallen. The rest of them will fall back to the deep woods when they learn of this defeat. But we can't let them despair. One day, we have to reach out and help them. Some how…some way."

"A fine notion, my love. But it is not this day." Regis said softly, helping her to stand. "You're an amazing creature indeed."

Root smiled at him but looked over to Vesemir and the witchers.

"Lass, I don't know what you did to that elf, and I don't want to know. At least not today. But do an old man a favor will you?" Ves said, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"What's that, Master?" she said with a respectful nod, and Geralt broke into a slight grin.

"Please, for the love of Melitele, don't leave the keep without an escort again." He said, leaning forward and kissing her forehead. "For spirits sake, you're like a daughter now you know?"

Root's lip quivered, and she wiped her eyes. "Yes, Master Vesemir."

"Come on, lads." He said. "Let's all go home. And you. Don't you even think about leaving her alone again to go work out your issues."

Vesemir shot Roche a look when he said those words, and the Temerian nodded.

"I didn't plan on it, sir." He said as they all walked back toward the keep.

Errol Dorren of the Bald Mountain folk remained behind as the others began walking back to Kaer Morhen. From the surrounding forest, the men and women who'd been with him since fleeing their home, those who had survived a human purging, joined their Speaker in burying the bodies of Iorveth and their elven kinsmen.

Several hours later, that evening, as the sun set in the west, a bare skinned Root stood out on the balcony, and she heard elven voices raised in farewell drift up from the forest below. The last words echoed through the silent valley, as if all that was wild and free paused in that moment, grieving the deaths of the fallen aen seidhe.

 _Va faill, elaine caed. Essea caemm caerme. Va faill, evellienn._

"Farewell, beautiful forest. I go to meet my destiny. Farewell, all." She whispered and put a hand over where a great wound would've been had she not healed herself by absorbing Iorveth's vitality and soul. "Goodbye, my friend. I'm so, so very sorry it ended this way."

Root wiped her eyes and shifted into her mighty were form. Beautiful, dark brown fur sprang from her skin as her features easily melded into that of a gorgeous werewolf. Standing on elongated legs, Root inhaled and let loose a long howl that reverberated for miles. Pouring her heart and feelings into her lupine song, Root's voice was joined by several more howls sounding off from every direction. Until the entire Kaedweni valley was one great symphony of wolves, mourning the loss of a champion who'd fought for his people, nay all the wild places, but had gotten lost in personal hatred and vendetta.

Errol Dorren, Valonna and their people, standing around a bonfire in the woods, smiled sadly and joined hands. Then they too howled with their brothers and sisters.

Geralt found himself in the courtyard, leaning against the still open gates, waiting for the rest of their company to return home after their ceremony. Emiel Regis joined him, blowing smoke into the evening air.

"Aren't you going to howl with them? You are the White Wolf after all." The vampire said.

The Witcher groaned and rolled his eyes so hard that it made Regis cough and laugh out loud.

"I don't really get it." Dandelion said, walking up while nibbling on a bit of fresh baked bread. "The guy wasn't a hero. He was a dick. A real jerk who hated everything human and would've killed me, Vernon and countless others. Why are they singing for him?"

Regis nodded. "A fair point. I gather that they're singing for the good Iorveth had done, and could've done. And it's polite to bury the dead, and mourn them. Remembering what was positive about their lives."

"Iorveth was a soldier, Dandelion." Geralt said quietly, gazing up as the first of the stars twinkled into the sky. "And like all soldiers they have orders. He thought he was doing what was best for his people. And as you well know, many elves and other non-humans do have it pretty bad in the vast majority of cities. I'm not saying he was justified, I'm simply saying I can see the reason for his anger. Even hate. Remember, we witchers have felt the lash of human pogroms too."

"Are you saying Iorveth answered to someone?" the bard asked. "That maybe somewhere out in the world is the person he got his orders from?"

Geralt sighed. "Fuck, I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. Root said something after taking his soul. What was it?"

"Iorveth's movement has ended." Regis said softly. "Do you know I felt like he was speaking through her for a moment? As if he himself were telling us that it was over."

"Something ends…" the bard said with a nod.

"Yeah, but what is it that began?" Geralt said somewhat darkly, gazing down the road as Errol and the elves began to head back to the keep. "And will it be worse than what the Scoia'tael had brought to the world?"

"Or perhaps will it be better?" Regis pondered. "Our Root has made several people just in our group alone reconsider long held opinions. Perhaps, as the centuries roll ever forward, she will become a key figure in helping heal the relationship between those of the pre and post Conjunction peoples. Half her blood is from another world after all. And remember, dear friends, I have been here for over five hundred years now. Iorveth's uprising and everything we consider politically important in our day and age will one day be spoken of in debate halls, with people wondering what it all really meant. Times change. Peoples change. Welcome back, Errol. Supper is ready."


	92. Chapter 92

Chapter 92 (a short one to make up for last chapter)

* * *

Upstairs, Root had changed back and retrieved a covered basket that she'd been hiding for several months while working on an intricate bit of sewing. Lifting the lid, she smiled, and felt that now was the right time. Slipping on a green satin robe, she tied the sash, put the basket on her hip, and quietly padded down the stairwell.

Vernon Roche was gazing outside, standing at the large window next to the grand fireplace of the lower bedroom and den. He had a towel resting over his shoulder and dabbed his chin and cheeks. Root could tell that the man had just had a bath and a shave, dressed as he was in just a pair of black pants.

"Hello, husband." She said quietly, setting the basket on his bed.

He looked over and gave her a kind smile, but she could see that his eyes were somewhat veiled, if not sad. She approached and leaned on his chest while he wrapped an arm around her waist, and they looked outside together, listening to the fire crackle.

"Root?" he said quietly.

"Yes?"

"Do you…" he began and sighed. "Am I like Iorveth? Be honest."

Root was silent for a while, pondering her thoughts, while the soldier waited as if awaiting a sentence to be passed.

"If you mean are you passionate about your duty; yes." She replied, softly kissing his shoulder. "But if you mean are you hateful toward others because of their blood…I would have to say no. Not in the time that I've known you. When you joined us, you never treated Errol or Valonna differently. And the day we rode into Vizima, you made it clear that your city didn't tolerate discrimination against non-humans. I haven't known you very long, it's true. But in the time I have known you, you've only ever been kind in your words and deeds to others. Even to a werewolf. But…is it true what he said? Did you do those things to elves?"

Vernon lowered his head. "To soldiers? Yes."

He turned and looked at her, expecting a look of horror to pass over her features and condemn him. But she only waited patiently and remained silent.

"There are things men of war have to do to protect their kin and country. On that, I see Iorveth's point completely. And part of that, for Temeria, was sending a message to other Scoia'tael that we were not going to tolerate our people being killed in their purges. But I swear to you, Root, on his majesty's memory, that I never killed innocents. Not personally, nor by order. Now, I'm not going to say others haven't done so in the name of the lilies. But not under my direction."

Root nodded and kissed his chest.

"I believe you, Vernon. I don't really understand; not fully. I know very little of war or politics. But what you said makes sense. I knew Iorveth not as a leader, or a rebel, but as a son of Nature. He taught me the elder speech, and herbal lore. His group gave me shelter when I needed it, and provided a safe place for a randomly shifting werewolf to lay her head in a hostile world. The elf I knew played music and danced. He laughed with the wind and told stories around the campfires of crystalline palaces woven with living trees. I knew a very different person."

The soldier smiled. "I wish I could've known _that_ man."

"It doesn't seem like he gave you much of a chance." Root said, running her hand along his chest. "So, on a more positive note, I have a gift for you. Something I've been working on for a while. I hope you like it."

Root motioned toward the basket sitting on the bed. Vernon grinned and kissed her cheek.

"What have you been up to?" he said, walking over to it.

And when he lifted the lid, the soldier gasped and looked at his wife, stunned. Root waited patiently, twirling her fingers and gently chewing her lip.

"How did…where did…how…"

"I made it." She said, walking over. "I couldn't save the one you burned. But I have a good eye for detail, yeah?"

Roche lifted the blue striped coat that was an exact match to his once uniform. From the hand-threaded and sewn folds, perfectly stitched leather straps and gorgeous tooled buckles and loops, it was a work of magnificent beauty and stunning craftsmanship. Root had even carefully embroidered the three lilies of Temeria onto a dark blue, shield shaped patch.

"I would make you a necklace too, to replace your badge of office. But I don't know how to forge." She said. "May I?"

Root held the coat while Vernon turned around and slid his arms into the sleeves. It fit perfectly. He turned back and Root blushed when she saw the profound love in her mate's eyes. Carefully, she threaded the dark red cord into the loops and laced the coat closed, drawing it around his strong physique. She then checked that the back was smooth, and the sleeves were just to the wrists.

"Looks like I got your measurements right. How's it feel, Commander?" she said sweetly, standing in front of him.

"Like I never lost it." He whispered, his voice catching ever so slightly. "Root, I…I can't find words…to…"

She put a finger to her husbands' lips and then kissed him, lingering on his mouth.

"No need for words. Only the finest for Foltest's best." She said, running her hands over the lilies of Temeria. "I miss him too. I barely knew him, I know. Yet his kindness to me and generosity will never be forgotten."

"May I ask you something?" he said, caressing her face. "About something Iorveth said?"

"Of course."

"Are you happy here? With us? Do you feel tamed? Like…like we've caged you?"

Root paused for a moment and gazed into his eyes. Then said.

"There was a moment, when we were at the palace, that I felt that way. When we went in for our audience with King Foltest. Cities were so new to me, let alone being in such a grand castle as Vizima. And when we first came here, to Kaer Morhen. You recall the encounter in the courtyard with Lambert I'm sure." She sighed. "Iorveth knew me as a wild woman of the woods, recognizing no law but the laws of Nature and my own internal compass. He liked that about me, and I found that part of his character to be compelling too. He spoke of freedom and the old ways in a manner that I knew and lived. I wanted that for his people."

Vernon listened quietly, holding his hands on her hips.

"But now?" she continued. "No, my love. The world is so much bigger than my simple cottage in the woods. There's more people, more life, wonder and mystery than I could've ever imagined. And it's because of Geralt doing what Geralt does best that I get to be a part of it."

"But, Root, Geralt wanted to…"

"I know, I know." She said quietly. "But…he didn't. Which shows his character. He saw the real monster when others would've seen a prince among elves. So I suppose one could say that by capturing me, he set me free."

The Commander of the Blue Stripes admired the woman before him. He reached up and ran a hand through her long brown hair.

"You have such a unique way of seeing the world, Root Selithlene. I can't say I always understand, and I'm sure there are things we'd disagree on. But right now, in this moment, you're the most perfect woman I've ever laid eyes on." He said.

"Aww, well, I know I'll always be second fiddle to the first lady your in patriotic heart, Vernon." She replied as he stepped closer.

Roche nodded and grinned. "You're not wrong. Temeria is my first love. But now, not my only one."

Root's green eyes burned with desire but her husband smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Not tonight my gorgeous woman of the woods." He said softly, teasing her by letting her feel his hard length near her.

She pouted at him.

"Patience, my lady." He said, unwinding her arms from around his neck. "Remember, I said to take some time. But truly, thank you for this, Root."

The wild woman let her hand trace the lilies of Temeria and she kissed his freshly shaven face.

"As you wish, Commander." She said, lingering on his title. "And you're welcome."

Root reluctantly left the soldiers' side and went downstairs to get some supper.


	93. Chapter 93

Chapter 93

* * *

Everyone, save the children and Vernon Roche, was gathered around the kitchen table that evening, sharing a platter full of cinnamon rolls. Geralt and his brother witchers sipped coffee, while Emiel Regis and the elves enjoyed a pot of tea. Before them, a map of the area was laid out.

"This is the trail that winds up to the homestead. I've scouted it out and in about a week, it'll be completely clear of ice and snow. I think if myself, Regis, Vernon and Errol head up before the group, we can make sure the land isn't occupied by wild animals or anything else. It's been a long while since anyone has lived up there. Once secured, we can evaluate what kind of building materials we're going to need to repair and rebuild the main house." Geralt explained, sipping.

"And I'm sure we have whatever tools would be required." Ves said. "This place is well stocked. But I'm unsure if a horse can make the climb, Wolf. That trail is fairly narrow. It'll be slow going with only a smaller cart being able to get through. Plus, what beast is going to pull the supplies up?"

"This one." Root said, walking into the kitchen.

Dressed in her green robe, with dark brown tresses resting on her shoulders, the men of the party were all diverted by the wild beauty that sat down at the table and poured herself a cup of tea. All but Vesemir, who saw the forest maiden like a daughter and not as a potential lover. Tearing a roll with her fingers, she tucked a piece into her mouth and licked her lips.

"What?" she asked, sucking frosting from her thumb.

"Not a chance, Root." Geralt said, with a firm look in his golden eyes. "And that's final."

"Uh, oh, here we go." Dandelion whispered, trying not to smile.

Root's pine green eyes met her witcher husbands' and she smiled at him, delicately nibbling on a frosted piece of pastry.

"All right, then." She replied. "I'll pull the carriage home through the tunnel so the elves will have that to use as a shelter in the meantime. It'll be safe up there with…"

"No, Root." Geralt answered, with the men of the group all looking between the fierce-eyed White Wolf and the ulfhedinn. "There's no way I'm letting you carry such heavy loads. The last time you bore a burden that heavy you…"

"I remember what happened, Gwynbleidd. They're my feet you know." She sniped back at him, which made Lambert's eyes widen, a smirk appearing on his face. "Look, I want to help. So either I can pull one of the carts up the mountain pass, or I'll pull the carriage home through the tunnels. Which would you prefer?"

All the men of the group looked to the White Wolf, with more than a few of them doing their best to hide grins of amusement over Root's challenging the mighty Witcher. Geralt shook his head.

"You can't pull the carriage home. It takes two draft horses to move it and…"

"OK then it's settled. I'll take up one of the carts." She replied sweetly.

Root rose from the table, grabbed another roll, kissed her witcher's snowy white hair and skipped out of the kitchen and down the hall. Eskel's couldn't hold it in any longer and he chortled loudly, while his brother witchers and the elves followed suit. Vesemir rose from the table and clapped his best student on the shoulder.

"You sure know how to pick em, Wolf." He said.

"It's always me." Geralt grumbled, sipping the coffee. "She'll obey Roche without question, and I seriously doubt there is anything she'd ever refuse Regis. But me? She'll argue with."

"She just wants to be helpful, Geralt. And we do need a smaller, more compact erm…animal, to pull the cart up the pass. Root's wolf form should have no trouble. But I understand your objection." Regis said with a nod. "I'll be along should anything happen."


	94. Chapter 94

Chapter 94 (a long one; last chapter before the Epilogue)

* * *

As the sun set over the mountains, the valley was washed in shades of lavender, with only the tallest trees still being painted in the golden light of the day star. Root wandered down the road that led to the keep and then left the path, straying into the wide meadow opposite the river. The air was warm and pleasant, with a breeze scented like sweet grass and wild mountain flowers. She allowed her hands to trail over the tall, swaying grass, delighted to feel the touch of the wild at last. Her bare feet loved the velvet caress of the mossy rocks and she smiled as fireflies began to twinkle and flicker about. With a giggle of pure delight, she laughed with the wind, twirled about and danced. For while she was still grieved by the death of her friend, Root felt in that moment that Iorveth was within her, rejoicing in the beauty of the valley. It was as if she could hear elven flutes and Dandelion's lute and she gave herself over to the music of life, closed her eyes, and sang.

From the edge of the meadow, a pair of blue eyes framed by black hair watched the woman. Scanning the area, the stranger saw no one else and he found it odd that an unarmored, unarmed woman should be wandering alone at dusk. His eyes drifted upwards, beholding the mighty stronghold of Kaer Morhen rising like a grim guardian over the valley. With eyesight keener than any bird of prey, the stranger could see figures in the windows. Breathing deeply he caught her scent on the air and a smile turned up the corner of his mouth.

Root's dance had brought her close to the edge of the treeline and as she turned, and the wind shifted, it brought to her a scent she did not recognize. She paused, her eyes searching the darkness.

"Who's there?" she said boldly. "Come out. I know you're here."

The stranger stepped forward, seemingly melting into existence, emerging from the shadows. Tall and pale, he was dressed in a black long-coat with multiple buckles that ran the length of the garment, and finger-less gloves. He had the look of a man in his prime with a strong jawline, dark hair and quiet confidence. His glamour was incredibly alluring as well, and Root recognized that feeling immediately. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and adopted a stance of polite deference.

"Why are you hiding there, sir?" she asked.

"You're very inquisitive." He said quietly, looking her up and down. "And demanding, I might add. I'm just a traveler. I wasn't hiding. Your song and dance caught my attention is all."

Root blushed at the way he spoke to her, feeling the pull of his voice. Blinking, Root lowered her gaze and took a step back.

"Oh. Erm…do the witchers know you're here? In their valley?"

The stranger regarded her.

 _She knows._ He thought.

"Their valley?" he replied, strolling alongside her, letting a gloved hand brush a purple thistle. "I didn't realize this place was owned. What about you? Do they know _you're_ here?"

Root could feel the man's aura as he passed. It was strong and unique, with an edge that felt feral, and unlike any energy field she'd ever encountred. But she restrained herself, even though it was so very tempting to try and sample his vitality. The stranger turned then, and looked directly into her eyes.

"No, don't do that." she said, lowering her gaze.

He paused, searching her face. Impressed that she could look away from him.

"I…I don't want to hurt you. I can't help it. I'm…"

"You're warded." He said quietly, feeling the slightest hint of magical retaliation from just that brief meeting of her eyes. "And you know what I am."

"Yes." She replied softly.

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes. As I should be. Please, I meant no offense. I was just out for a walk is all." She said backing away.

In a blink, the man was gone. And then Root bumped into something solid behind her. Massively powerful, gloved hands gripped her shoulders and his voice was right next to her ear.

"And I am just thirsty. It'll go easier if you don't resist." He said quietly, lifting his lips.

"Dettlaff." Regis said sharply, suddenly appearing in front of Root.

The man, apparently called Dettlaff, paused just before biting the werewolf and sheathed his teeth. The woman was paralyzed with fear, trembling and wide eyed, her breath coming in gasps. Regis smiled at her and looked deeply into her eyes.

"It's all right now. Calm. Don't shift on us." He said softly, and she instantly relaxed.

"She's yours?" the man asked. "I didn't think you the type to keep a blood source around."

"Dettlaff van der Eretein," Regis began, "You know me better than that. She's not a blood source, seeing as I don't drink. We are bonded though. So yes, you could say she is mine. Although that makes her sound like property if you ask me."

"Ah, that's why I couldn't charm her. And she warned me away from doing so. Why? Why not just let me be lashed psychically?"

"My Root didn't want you to be hurt." Regis replied, motioning for her to come to him. "She was curious and wanted to talk to you. But she knew what you were attempting as well and so called out to me. Have you a camp near by? It would be nice to catch up. It's been too long."

"I do. Will she be…"

"She'll be just fine." Regis said softly. "Root, stay in this trance for a while. Be calm and do as I say."

Root nodded and blinked slowly, content to let her attention be distracted by the fireflies. The two vampire gentleman crossed the simple footbridge and walked into the darkened forest, speaking of ancient days, and the bond of brotherhood. She walked beside her Regis, holding his hand, hearing them, yet remaining completely oblivious to any of the details.

The two sat across from each other, while Dettlaff tossed another log onto the fire and eyed Root, who was content to sit by her sires' side, admiring the moon.

"She is very docile." He said, nodding to her. "Have you been with her long?"

Regis lit his pipe and waved out the match. "No. Not long at all. But if you'll indulge my metaphysical side for a moment, I am of the opinion that she and I were destined for one another. So her passiveness makes a sort of sense to me."

The other vampire, who by appearances looked much younger than Emiel Regis, raised an eyebrow.

"You think that's why she's so, well, look at her." Dettlaff said, passing on the offer of a smoke.

"Come now. She's enspelled at the moment. But you're not wrong. Root is very docile toward me even when not entranced. Now, when it comes to other members of our little community of friends, shall we say, she can be erm…quite feisty. But yes, I do believe I was meant for her, and she for me. This woman trusts me so completely I could ask her to do anything and she'd not hesitate." Regis said with admiration. "And I will never violate that trust."

Dettlaff's eyes became dark and he stared into the flames in silence. Emiel Regis, knowing what pained the other, waited patiently. The forest around them was lit with the sparkle of fireflies, while the firelight made shadows dance among the pines. The fire snapped and sent orange sparks into the treetops then. And a light breeze blew through the trees. Root blinked and smiled, mesmerized by the wavering lights.

"It is good that she can trust you so completely, Regis." He said at last.

"Dettlaff, it's…"

"No. I don't want to talk about it." He said a little more abruptly than he wanted, but then softened. "At least, not tonight, brother. Wake her. I'd like to know more about her. And you did say she was curious."

Emiel nodded and let the matter go. He gently turned Root's chin so that she faced him.

"Come on, my dear. Come back to us. Yes, there you are. Hello, luv." He said as her green eyes focused on him.

"Oh, Regis…where…was I dreaming?" she asked, blinking several times. "I remember a man. He was, oh should've seen him. He was very pale and…"

"Ahem." Regis interrupted quietly. "Root, you're not dreaming. He's right here."

Emiel motioned to Dettlaff who gave her a courteous nod.

"Root Selithlene, this is Dettlaff van der Eretein. A very old, trusted friend of mine." Regis said kindly.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Root Selithlene." He replied.

Root stared at the man with her mouth slightly agape.

"Erm…" he said, looking at Regis with a raised eyebrow.

"Root?" Regis said, gently squeezing her shoulder.

"Wow, you're gorgeous." She finally managed to say.

Regis laughed lightly and Dettlaff smiled broadly and inclined his head graciously.

"Well, thank you." He said, and quickly hid his teeth.

"You don't have to hide them. It's ok." Root said with a kind smile. "You were going to bite me earlier, weren't you? You gave me quite the scare you know. I would've let you had you just asked. Are you still thirsty, Dettlaff? I know Regis doesn't drink but… Wait…oh…erm…is that rude, Regis? Was that rude?"

Root shyly leaned into Regis chest and hid her face. Dettlaff, though, was moved by her acceptance of his nature; his and Regis'.

"Rude? Offering a drink to a weary traveler? I think it one of the highest courtesies. Someone raised you right that's for certain." Dettlaff said softly, and again Root could feel the pull of the vampire's voice.

"Be careful, old friend. You should be fine so long as you don't intend to enchant her. Hm? Oh, yes I know, my dear. If he likes, no, I don't mind."

Root looked over at Dettlaff, who was amused by the curious woman curled up into Regis' embrace.

"You never got to answer my question earlier, miss." He said. "Do the witchers of this valley know you're here? What what _you_ are?"

"I barely know what I am, sir." She replied quietly. "But yes, they know."

"What do you mean?" Dettlaff asked, leaning forward. "I can smell the blood of wolves in you. Is there more to you? And these must be some of the oddest witchers in the world if they know what you two are and haven't killed you."

"Well, my blood flows through her as well, remember. So she shares in the bloodline of our forebears; making her at least partially a higher vampire." Regis began. "And, well, oh my, the rest is a long story. As for the witchers, they have become dear friends. But you're right, they are unique among their peers. I seriously doubt those of the Bear or Viper school would let my Root live. Let alone myself. If they could lay a hand on either of us, that is. Which…Hm? Oh, well, you'd need to ask him, Root. Remember what I told you about that."

Root sat up and looked over to the dark haired vampire.

"I…I can show you another side of myself. May I taste of your energy, Dettlaff?" she asked.

"Say what?" he asked, his brow furrowing with confusion. "Taste…my energy?"

"I take nourishment from other beings' auras. I promise I'll not hurt you, sir." She said.

"I doubt you could seriously harm me." Dettlaff replied with a slight grin. "Show me then."

Root held out her hand. Dettlaff let her take his and lace fingers with him. The woman began the draw, but as soon as he felt energy leave his body he withdrew his hand with the tinest rumble of a growl reverberating in his chest. He felt defensiveness quickly rise up, and in that moment he was glad his friend was sitting beside them. Otherwise Dettlaff felt sure he'd have torn her hand off.

"I'm…sorry." He said at last, calming himself. "That just startled me is all."

He held his hand out to her and Dettlaff noted Regis' look was kind, yet neutral, and his response to her had been noted. Blood brothers though they may be, Eretein knew this was Regis' mate and that harming her in any way would be a very, very bad idea. A sentiment Dettlaff could relate to in a very personal way. Root siphoned his vitality into her body and immediately she felt an energy course through her that she experienced as dark, icy and immensely powerful, almost bestial. And too…

"I taste my Regis in you." She said softly. "And now I recognize your energy in him as well. You exchanged vitality with one another. But it was a long, long time ago wasn't it?"

Root released his hand after just a short feed, and opened her eyes, now as blue as the strangers', with shades of coal painting her dark brown hair.

"That is amazing." He said, flexing his fingers. "What are you? I've never felt that or met another who could do such a thing. And you can tell Regis and I are blood brothers just by doing, whatever you just did?"

The woman looked to her mate as the blue faded from her eyes.

"I named her species Aurem Lumen. You see the distinct golden sheen on her skin now? That happens whenever she feeds. Thus the name. And she seems to be able to take on traits of those she feeds on, although they last for mere seconds, vanishing almost the instant she stops. We're still learning though. Root didn't discover this side of herself until recently, and…well, would you like to tell him?" Emiel asked.

But Root was simply enchanted by the dark haired man sitting across from her. Regis read her thoughts and shook his head.

"You are a slightly strange woman, do you know that?" he said, tucking a lock of hair around her ear.

She blushed.

"You want me to bite you, don't you?" Dettlaff asked softly. "Not just as a courtesy to slake my thirst but because you like it. You've bitten her then, Regis? How would she know what that's like otherwise?"

Root hid her face and both vampires could scent her pheromones as the woman became aroused. Regis stroked her arm.

"Yes. Only once though. A celebration drink. The first I'd had in centuries." He said. "But my dearest Root doesn't remember much of it do you? You went quite deep into trance. Almost as deep as when we'll rest together one day."

"Well, if you don't mind, Regis, I am thirsty. And her blood does smell mighty fine indeed. I honestly don't know how you resist it. I wanted it the moment I caught wind of it." Dettlaff said, and noted Root's tiny squeal and the slightest curling of her toes.

"There are days where the temptation is strong." Regis began, and Root looked up at him. "Oh yes, my dear. During these five hundred or so years, I've been able to refuse the drink without much effort at all. But your blood sings to me like the sirens of the Skellige seas. Were I younger, I'm unsure I'd be able to refuse."

"Regis, I don't ever want you to compromise yourself in any way." She said, tenderly tracing his jawline. "I…I still feel bad about…"

"Shh, don't even think on it." He replied, kissing her fingers. "I over-reacted and I shouldn't have. You're very generous to offer yourself as refreshment, Root. Your soul is mine. I don't mind sharing your blood, or even your body, with others. You know this. You stay here with him, while I go and inform our friends of our whereabouts before Vesemir sends a squad out to look for you. Now, you will most likely fall into a deep trance, Root, so just let that happen and go to sleep when it does. My brother won't let any harm come to you."

Dettlaff nodded when Regis looked over to him then. Emiel rose and walked back in the direction of Kaer Morhen, leaving Dettlaff van der Eretein alone with Root Selithlene. She looked over, and in that moment, without her mate around, Root felt the glimmer of fear return. Dettlaff rose then, and casually walked over to the wood pile and tossed some shavings into the hungry flames.

"I can smell your fear." He said quietly, smiling at her so she could see his fangs. "And your arousal."

Root's heart raced as she rose.

"When Regis bit you, was it everything you imagined it would be?" he asked, walking toward her.

"No." she answered quietly, and he paused, tilting his head. "In the stories, the vampires…well, they…and…"

Root flushed pink and fidgeted with her fingers in a way that he found amusing, cute and emboldening. Her obvious weakness toward him made the normally withdrawn, and somewhat socially awkward higher vampire relax. He knew that in her company, he didn't have to act human, or pretend to know or understand human customs and social niceties. Root's easy acceptance of his vampiric nature made him feel a kind of gratitude toward the werewolf of mixed heritage, and a desire to repay her.

"Ahhh, yes, the eyes. Right?" Dettlaff said, circling around behind her. "The vampire always looks into the victims' eyes, don't they. And tell me, what else do they say in the stories?"

Root turned as red as autumn berries and her brown hair fell forward as she looked down, recalling the numerous tales she'd read while tucked away, safe and sound, in her little woodland cottage. The woman of the Temerian forest never dreamt she would one day be mated to one higher vampire, and have the pleasure of being playfully teased by another.

"Tell me, Root. What do they say?" he said, brushing her hair up and over her shoulder, exposing her pale skin.

"I…can't…" she muttered with slight gasp.

"I won't bite unless you do." He said with a smile she couldn't see. "Tell me."

"Look…look deeply into my eyes." She began, and he could feel the heat radiating from her as Root flushed. "You are getting…"

"Sleepy." He said, running a finger over her shoulder. "Yes. What else, little wolf?"

"You…you will…you must, oh, please…"

"You will what?" he said, enjoying the game he was playing with her. "You must what, wolven spirit? You must what?"

"Obey." She said breathlessly. "I must obey."

He laughed softly then, and gently carressed her shoulders.

"Yes, that sounds about right. I've read some of those stories myself. Very interesting what humans and others imagine about I and my myth. You like our aura of mystery and sexual appeal very much." He said. "Now, I can't look into your eyes. And you don't need to obey me. But you can take a deep breath and relax. I won't hurt you. Not now that I know you're Regis'."

Dettlaff stood behind her and Root held absolutely still. He breathed, enjoying the pleasing scent that poured from her pores; a cocktail of sexual arousal, wildness and femaleness as she became warm.

"You are a curious creature indeed, Root Selithlene." He said softly, right into her ear. "You know I'm not going to satisfy you. Not in that way. But I am enjoying the effect I have on you. It is most gratifying. But too, I thank you. I'm normally in the company of those disturbed by my natural qualities. Yet you wished me no harm, even when you knew I was stalking you. Your love for my brother also speaks volumes to me of your own nature. The world could use more souls like yourself. So again, thank you."

He traced her shoulders, running his hands down her arms, and Root glanced over, noting that his fingernails had elongated and become massive ivory talons.

"Don't turn around." He whispered, his breath hot on her neck. "You don't want to see this form. And it's not how I want you to remember me. Even as I appreciate your acceptance of my kind. I have met few others who did not fear this face. Just relax now. Listen to my voice. Hear the wind in the trees, and the distant river as it runs over the rocks. Tumbling ever onwards toward the falls. Can you hear it, Root?"

The woman relaxed against him, and Detlaff brushed the nape of her neck with his lips.

"Can you hear it?" he repeated. "Falling over the edge, and into the valley below?"

"Yes." she said softly, closing her eyes.

"Fall with it." He said and sank his teeth into her.

She felt that moment of pain, and then everything melted into darkness as leathery wings enveloped the daughter of Curamil.

* * *

"Come on, my dear. My goodness you're stuck in deep aren't you. Come on back, Root." Regis said softly, his voice nearby.

Root struggled to open her eyes, but a part of her wanted to sink back into the velvety darkness. Then she scented the strong aroma of her sires blood and she sighed, her lips parting.

"Wake up." He said, moving his pierced finger away from her nostrils. "Come on."

At last her eyelids opened and she blinked, but her vision was still cloudy. Root tried to focus on Emiel Regis, who leaned over her with a kind smile.

"Root? You need to come back, my love. I know it's comfortable there. All the way back."

The room slowly came into view; the large fireplace of the lower den, the bookshelves, the two beds, the table and chairs and the crackle of the fire.

"Regis." she said, smiling up at him. "What…where…"

"You're home." He said, helping her to sit up. "Our friend had to be on his way. But he wanted me to thank you for your generosity. And said the wine of your blood was some of the sweetest he'd ever sipped."

Root turned her head and gazed out the window, hoping to see the dark figure looking in at her. But alas, only the starry night sky and the moon graced the arched glass pane.

"Your thoughts of him are such that any other man would be madly jealous." Regis said playfully. "But I quite understand. Dettlaff is your fantasy made flesh isn't he? He's everything you'd think about in that little cottage of yours."

Root smiled but looked up at her mate then, her deep green eyes filled with adoration. It moved Regis to see that reflected in her and he gently touched her face.

"Like all fantasies," she began. "They're just something to be indulged in sometimes. But you, my gorgeous Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, are my life. My mate, my sire, my…"

Regis kissed her passionately then and she gave herself over to his mouth, her hands caressing his neck, her fingers entwining in his wiry hair. Root rose up, leaned over him and laid him down on the bed, kissing her way down his throat.

"Root…" he said softly, as she opened his coat. "Spirits…my Root…"

She unfastened the buckle at his waist, rubbed him and he groaned, laying his head back. Slipping herself between his legs, she knelt there and kissed him.

"Gods…" he said, his hands gliding under the pillows beneath his head. "Oh, gods, Root…"

* * *

The couple lay together in the lower bedroom of the den, safe within the walls of the great witcher stronghold. Her other mates were all together playing Barrel in the kitchen, and she could hear their laughter and joy floating down the stone hallways along with Dandelion's lute. Root let her fingers play with the buttons on Regis' coat, but soon she drifted off into natural sleep and Emiel smiled, and kissed between her eyes.

"I love you, my precious, precious Root." He said softly.

He then relaxed and let himself slip into a light trance, resting while she napped for a short time.

Some time later, Root awoke. Opening her eyes, she saw that the fire had dimmed to shimmering embers, and the bedroom was dark. The space beside her was empty, and she figured her Regis had gone off to the library or alchemy room. She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. Rising, she made her way up the staircase to Geralt's bedroom. Finding the box of matches on the mantle, she lit the beeswax candles and opened the balcony doors to let in the warm spring breeze. Stepping out, she leaned on the stones and her eyes drifted down to the place just across the river where she'd met Dettlaff van der Eretein. Like when Regis had bitten her, Root barely remembered anything about it. But just knowing that he had made her grin girlishly and turn pink. Shaking her head at her own silliness, she walked back in and sat in front of the mirror.

Root took up the silver hairbrush and ran the bristles through her brown tresses, letting her thoughts wander.

"What else does Yennefer have here I wonder?" she thought aloud.

She opened up one of the drawers on the vanity and spied a round glass bottle filled with a dark purple liquid. An obsidian star, surrounded by tiny clear diamonds, hung on a silvery chain and was wrapped around the stopper. It seemed to radiate a sort of power, with a faint bluish glow to it. She removed the top and the most wonderful scent came forth, one that reminded her of lilacs.

"This must be her perfume. I bet Geralt likes this." She said sweetly, replacing the top. "But what is this curious star I wonder?"

When she put the bottle back, her eyes caught sight of something lying on the nightstand beside the bed. Rising, she walked over and when Root saw what it was she gasped and quickly looked around the room. But all was quiet, and as it should be, save for the soughing of the wind through the mountain valley. She picked up the object, held it to her chest, and walked back out onto the balcony. Some distance away, blue eyes keener than any bird of prey, watched her and a slight grin turned up the corner of his mouth.

Root looked into her hand and there was the brooch Dettlaff van der Eretin had been wearing on his long-coat. An elegant piece of jewelry that reminded Root of a luna moth.

"It is rare that Dettlaff makes friends." Regis said softly, having appeared beside his mate.

Root turned to him and Emiel smiled as the moonlight appeared from behind the clouds and washed the both of them in its silvery rays.

"Will I see him again some day?" she asked.

"Oh, most definitely." He said. "It may be several hundred years. But that is nothing to our kind. You are a wonder, my Root. Dettlaff is used to feeling clumsy around others. Unlike myself, he hasn't had the experiences of living around humans, elves and other races. And thus doesn't seem to, well…pass very well among them. He has to consciously work to appear human. But with you, he could be more himself, without having to worry about breaking some social taboo or violating some custom. You made him feel very accepted and both he and I greatly appreciate it."

Root leaned on her husband and he softly caressed her arm.

"Our kind." She repeated quietly. "I like how you say that. Am I really a higher vampire, Regis?"

"In my eyes, yes." He answered. "Let others squabble about the details and technical terms. You are blood of my blood. And while Arklan said scholars would classify your mother's species as lower vampires, I'm unsure that elf, well half elf, knew what he was talking about. His behavior didn't strike me as that of one who was very bright. In fact, just the opposite. And foolish. Now, I brought you a bit of nightcap. Would you share a drink with me, dearest? Erm, not that kind of drink."

Regis turned and walked back into the bedroom and Root followed. Unstopping a crystal carafe, the vampire filled a snifter for her and one for himself. He handed her the glass and then gently tapped his against hers.

"To new friends." He said and sipped.

Root tasted the strong liquor and licked her lips. It had a tart sweetness, almost like an apple when it first touched the tongue, and then faded into more of a spicy, earthy flavor when swallowed. Her green eyes widened and she drank more.

"You like that do you?" he said with a nod. "Some of my best yet, even if I do say so myself."

"What is it?" she asked, holding her glass out for more.

"Mandrake moonshine." He replied, pouring. "These witchers have some truly choice herbs and roots stored in their lab. Granted it's not fresh mandrake but still, very good quality. Ah, perhaps one day we'll get back to my cottage in Fen Carn, where we can harvest it during the summer months. I wonder if my old set up is still workable?"

Root finished her second cup and Regis' eyebrow went up, but he obliged and gave her more.

"This is really good stuff." She said sweetly. "Much better than that dwarven whiskey. Or scotch. Whatever it was. Compared to this, that stuff tasted like rancid swamp water."

Emiel Regis laughed and she giggled.

"Oh, Zoltan Chivey would be turning all shades of red if he'd heard that. The dwarves are quite proud of their alcoholic traditions." He said.

"I hope I can meet this Zoltan one day." She said, finishing her third cup. "His name has been mentioned a few times. It would seem he's quite a good friend of yours then? May I have more, Regis?"

The barber-surgeon nodded and filled her cup. Checking her thoughts, Regis could see she wasn't quite drunk but very relaxed and comfortable.

"Yes. And he is more Geralt's good friend and I met him through the Witcher. But he was a right good fellow and I quite miss him. He and his brother dwarves went back to Mahakam years ago. I wonder how they are faring now that Nilfgaard has become their next door neighbor? Hopefully Emreis is content to leave the dwarves in their mountain stronghold alone, but I rather doubt it. Remember, my sweet, mandrake is going to make you drowsy. But before you fall asleep, I'm sure you'll treat me to all sorts of intriguing details and talkativeness. So, what shall we do whilst we enjoy this batch of my finest together?"

Root climbed up onto the bed, sat cross-legged and Regis pulled up a chair, resting his feet on a short ottoman, bringing the carafe of mandrake with him.

"Tell me again about your journey to Brokilon." She said excitedly. "When you brought Dandelion and Geralt to meet your druid friend."

"That old story again?" he asked and she twirled the end of her hair while sipping moonshine. "Very well…"


	95. Chapter 95

Epilogue

* * *

Late summer came to the Kaedweni valley, washing the ancient mountains in waning golden light that wasn't yet ready to release it's reign over the world. And on the night of the elven holy day of First Harvest, the stone halls of Kaer Morhen were silent. No witchers roamed the training courtyard, no aen seidhe children dashed about; no Temerian soldier drifted through the corridors like a phantom, and no vampire could be found in the alchemy lab. If any creature had chanced upon it then, they might've sworn that it had been abandoned.

High atop the mountain, nestled in a remote alpine valley, welcoming light flowed from the crystal windows of a rebuilt and redesigned longhouse. Parked beside it was the carriage home, secured to two mighty redwoods. And swinging in the soft summer wind were glowing lanterns painted with elven runes of protection. The sound of Dandelion's lute filled the night with merriment as the company then toasted their success. The new home for the elves had finally been completed. And everyone was celebrating with a feast, good wine and song.

"Come on, Root!" Cera called, throwing open the door of her new home. "Let's play hide n seek."

"Now, now, you youngins be careful." Vesemir said with a waggle of his finger and a wink crinkling the corners of his old eyes. "You don't want the mountain troll to gobble you up."

"Just stay clear of the tunnel entrance kids." Valonna called, wiping her hands on a flour sack towel. "No, Root, I've got the dishes this time. You go on ahead."

The forest maiden darted after the elven kids, who squealed and scurried into the surrounding lawn and yard to find a bush or tree to hide behind. Emiel Regis rose from his seat and began clearing the table, setting the wooden bowls and cups into the wash basin.

"Another fine meal, my friends." He said, pumping water into the bin while adding the herbal soap he'd made to the water. "What a fine evening to celebrate the completion of this homestead. What a summer indeed!"

"To good friends!" Errol Dorren said, raising a horn of mead. "And no speech impedifent, oh gods…"

The company roared with laughter and raised their glasses. "To frrod griends!"

When everything had been cleaned up and put away, everyone wandered outside as the full moon rose over the lip of the great range and cast the woodland meadow into magical shades of silver and green that played in the arms of the pines. Regis lit his pipe and passed around the sack of smoking herbs, while Geralt couldn't break his nightly habit of patroling the edges of the property. The white haired witcher strapped on his dual blades and strolled off into the shadows.

"Well, Errol, you're home." Vesemir said, standing next to the elven Speaker. "How's it feel?"

The blue eyed elf reflected on how far they'd come from their beloved woods of the Bald Mountain region. The struggles they'd endured, the pain, the longing for a place to call their own again. And it brought tears to his eyes.

"He kept his word and promise." Errol said, wiping a tear, turning to the old witcher. "I cannot find words to express how much this means to all of us. We were so few. And still are but…we have a way forward now."

Vesemir nodded and put a hand on the Speaker's shoulder.

"Well, don't you worry, my good sir. We're always just down the mountain should you need anything. Once things settle down with Nilfgaard, come spring we'll plan on a long trip to one of the main cities for fresh supplies. Winter will come to this place first and it will be hard work keeping yourselves from being snowed in. But I reckon a werewolf may have some handy paws to help with that."

"And we have the tunnel that winds right down into the lower level of the keep." Root said, waving to the children who ran off to play amongst themselves. "Papa, can I come with to the big city when you go?"

Lambert and Eskel exchanged looks when their old mentor melted into a big smile.

"Oh, I don't know, Root." Ves began, folding his arms. "Seems to me you have three other men you should be posing that question to. But yes, it's alright with me, lass."

Root laughed and clapped her hands for joy. She then spied Vernon standing near the big redwood, by the carriage home, dressed in the blue striped coat of his once office of Commander of Temeria's special forces. Excusing herself from the witchers, she joined him.

"Hi, husband." She said sweetly, giving him a peck on the cheek. "You look so wonderful. Isn't it just great that the elves have their new home? And before winter too."

He nodded and leaned against the dark red bark of the ancient tree.

"It is to be celebrated, indeed." He said and gazed at her. "And…well…I was thinking of something too."

"Oh?" she said sweetly, tucking a lock of long brown hair behind her ear.

"Since this is a night of new beginnings and all," he began. "I…well, I kind of thought it was time that I do this proper so…"

Roche stood up, gazed into Root's green eyes and then slowly went to one knee, looking up at her as moonlight fell over her pale shoulders. He took her hand and kissed her fingers. A short distance away, Lambert nudged his brother Eskel and tossed a chin in the couples' direction.

"Root Selithlene, daughter of Curamil, since I cannot ask your father for your hand…will you marry me?" he said softly, looking at her with pale blue eyes.

Root smiled broadly and gave him a playful, loving smile.

"Vernon, you _are_ my husband; ceremony or no." she said, caressing his weathered, war-hardened hands.

"I know, my queen." He replied. "But, I'm the human one of the bunch and…well, this would have a great deal of meaning for me. If you don't…"

"I will." She said, gently putting a finger to his lips. "I want to. Yes."

"Really?" he said, rising. "You mean it, my queen?"

"Of course, my Commander." She said and squealed as he lifted her up by the waist and spun her around before hugging her to his chest so warmly and tightly. "My Vernon. Mmm…"

Roche then kissed her deeply and Root was moved by the passion in that embrace. However, neither of them had noticed the small crowd that had formed near the couple, and they both turned pink when they applauded. Geralt had returned from his patrol and nodded to his good friend, and Regis raised a glass of wine.

"Well, well, usually one waits till after the ceremony to kiss the bride." Said a sensuous, sultry voice that Root did not know. "How times change."

Geralt grinned upon hearing that voice and his golden eyes glittered.

The raven haired beauty with violet eyes strode out of the cave dressed in her trademark black and white, with high boots and fur trimmed leather gloves. Everyone but Root knew who Yennefer of Vengerberg was, and all greeted the renowned sorceress with polite nods of greeting. The forest maiden clung to Vernon Roche, curious about the stunningly gorgeous woman before her with glossy black hair that hung in heavy curls about shoulders sheathed in a black jacket.

"You've been in my room." She said with a click of her tongue, standing before the green eyed woman of the woods, before turning her attention to Roche. "So you're the one who has the emperor of half the world losing sleep at night. Nice work."

"Lady Yennefer." Vernon said politely with a courteous nod.

Root gasped. "You're…you're his Yennefer?"

The sorceress looked the simple woman up and down. And then looked over to Geralt with a raised eyebrow, as if silently asking, _Really_? She then sighed heavily, turned and managed an almost sincere smile.

"Yes. And you are?" Yennefer asked, nodding to Regis who'd come over to hover near Root.

"I'm called Root." She answered. "I…I didn't break anything in Geralt's, erm your room…I…"

"Lady Vengerberg, what a delight to see you again, my dear." Regis said warmly, raising the sorceress' hand to his lips. "Always a pleasure. It's been far too long."

"Hello, Regis." Yen replied kindly. "So, who's going to do the ceremony for you two then? Is someone going to get ole Mousesack up here for a druid rite or what?"

"Who?" Root asked, turning to Regis.

"I could do it." Errol Dorren said, walking up to the couple as Yennefer wandered over to Gwynbleidd. "We could then do parts of it in hen ilinge."

"But that wouldn't make it binding and legal." Spoke a new voice, a man's voice, one several of them instantly recognized. "And that is important to a man of Temeria devoted to her laws and traditions."

Vernon's blood ran cold and everyone, save Yennefer of Vengerberg, froze and stood still as a broad shouldered figure walked forward from the cave. Dressed in the garb of a merchant, Foltest, ruler of Temeria, Prince of Sodden, Sovereign of Pontaria and Mahakam, stood before a silent if small crowd. Roche slowly pushed Root into Regis' waiting arms and took a step forward.

"I saw the ring. And your…"

"Hands?" spoke the man. "Yes, I know. Amongst the other remains of the one who shall be named patroness of Vizima once we restore her to glory."

"How do we know your not a doppler? A shifter of some kind?" Vernon asked.

"He's not." Yennefer answered. "That's the real Foltest, I assure you. I checked and read his thoughts as soon as I found him. It's him."

"Ask me, soldier." The man Yen assured them was King Foltest said. "Ask me anything only I would know."

The Temerian's blue eyes were reflective for a long time. Finally he said,

"What was the last mission you sent me on?" Roche began.

"Too easy, Vernon. But fine. I sent you to bring supplies to the Witcher and his companions."

"I wasn't finished." Roche said with a smirk. "What were the last words you said to me before I left?"

The man grinned.

"Better. I said, "Get out of my sight and go find that woman you fucking whoreson."

Vernon Roche dropped to one knee, put a fist to the ground and lowered his head.

"My king." He said respectfully, although no one else moved to genuflect before the monarch, seemingly back from the dead.

"Rise." Foltest said, helping his commander up by the elbow before clapping him on the shoulder. "And I see you found her. Along with many others."

Vesemir and Foltest exchanged a polite nod, and everyone was convinced that the man was who he said he was based on Vernon's reaction and Yennefer's assurance.

"How…what…"

"Another time." Foltest said. "I promise. I shall tell you all what happened. Because tonight is a celebration. Now, what's this about a marriage? Wait…is that? By the Mother it is! The carriage is still in one piece is it? Amazing bit of gnomish work, eh? I hope it..."

Root rushed forward and hugged the sovereign. Although surprised, Foltest still embraced the forest maiden.

"There's so much I want to say." She said quietly. "So much to thank you for."

"Root," Regis said softly, gently pulling her away and into his arms. "I'm sure there will be time for that. Your majesty, it is indeed good to see you. Root, calm down. Goodness."

"It's fine. Emiel Regis was it?" Foltest asked.

"Indeed, sir. Barber-surgeon and herbalist, once again at your service." Regis said politely.

"Good. We're going to need all the help we can get. But I didn't come alone. Hope you have some spare rooms, Master Vesemir." The king said.

"One for a brother witcher of the Viper school?" said a deep, rich voice heavy with a southern Vicovarian accent.

A giant, mountain of a man stepped from the shadows of the cave. Bald headed with golden witcher eyes, and biceps that could crush a griffin's head like a crusty nut, Letho of Gulet cracked his knuckles and nodded to his brothers of the Wolf School.

"The Wolves welcome you, Viper. I hope your path was prosperous." Vesemir said with a nod.

"It's been tough times for us vipers. But the winds are a'changin. Not everyone in the south stands with Emreis and the empire." Letho said and Foltest nodded to him.

"Indeed. And we need to find them. Quietly. And rally them to our banner. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Tonight is a joyous occasion. Let us have it undimmed by politics." Foltest said, flashing the charismatic and charming grin that everyone loved about the ruler. "Now, Roche, I believe you'd just proposed to this lovely woman of the woods. Congratulations, soldier. And to you, Root. Vernon here couldn't stop talking about you after parting ways with the company. You should've heard him go on and on."

Root flushed a deep red, but her attention had been drawn to the giant of a man who, despite his size, was amazingly silent, nearly invisible and graceful as he stood quietly and out of the way while Vernon and Foltest chatted. The other members of the party, satisfied that the newcomers could be trusted, began to wander off into small groups to enjoy one of the last warm summer nights in the high mountain meadow. The woman left Regis' embrace, and he joined in the conversation between ruler and soldier, as Foltest was curious about Root's relationship to each of them.

Letho eyed the small woman as she approached and flipped the blade he'd been toying with, sheathing it in a swift motion. Awestruck that a man could be so broad and muscled as Letho was, she reached out without really thinking about it and touched his bicep. Letho raised one eyebrow, gently took her tiny hand into his enormous mit, and gave her a grin.

"Ain't nice to touch people like that, miss." He said in a rich, rumbling voice. "Name's Letho. What can I do for you?"

"Why…why are you so big?" She asked softly. "Are you hurt?"

The big man chuckled quietly.

"That's a long story. Yes, it did hurt. But not anymore. Is it your custom to be so direct with people you've just met?" he asked. "Ah, you know what, never mind me. I'm so used to double-speak and being guarded is all. If ole Ves and the White Wolf trust you, I do too. You really want to know how I got like this?"

Root nodded and Regis smiled as the werewolf and the Viper wandered off and Letho began telling her about the foundation of his own witcher school and traditions. The higher vampire then looked up, his gaze piercing the darkness and the clouds far above. And he smiled in his way, with pursed lips, before returning to the conversation with Temeria's finest.

High above the mountain meadow, on a peak wreathed in perpetual clouds, a glittering golden form curled about the summit of the biggest spike of that chain. A sinewy neck reclined in a gentle S curve, while wings the size of a galleon's great sails lay folded across its back. With keen eyes, the most beautiful Villentretenmerth watched over the Witcher and his friends. And had every intention of joining in the fight against Nilfgaard when the time came. But that is a story for another day.

The end of book one.

Book Two; Golden Lilies and the Black Sun, The Battle for Temeria

* * *

A massive thank you to all my readers! 3 Thank you for sharing Root's story and journey with me!


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